


Come in from the Cold

by blacklotus21



Category: Captain Marvel (DC), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Family, Feels, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklotus21/pseuds/blacklotus21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Fawcett City endures a harsh winter, Captain Marvel must combat vicious villains and the elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Winds

Captain Marvel found himself enjoying the winter weather as he floated gracefully above Fawcett City.  A light snowfall mingled with the wind that blew swiftly above the cityscape.  The friendly superhero silently thanked the wizard for granting him the power of flight. 

Suddenly, a loud explosion followed by screaming dragged his attention back to the task at hand.  He swiveled around to face the massive robot rampaging recklessly through the streets, letting loose a splay of rockets and gunfire.  Captain Marvel let out an exasperated sigh before diving towards the mechanical menace.  With a surge of speed, the crimson crime-fighter smashed into his automated adversary, ripping off one of its arms.  The colossus turned towards him, seemingly unfazed by the injury, and let loose a volley of missiles.  The attack hit Captain Marvel directly and shot him out of the sky.  Dazed by the blast, he barely noticed as a strong pair of hands broke his fall.  Blinking comically, the disoriented hero found Superman looking down at him, a stoic look plastered on his face. 

“Are you alright, Captain?” the Man of Steel asked calmly as he glared at the looming robot.  Suddenly gripped by embarrassment, Captain Marvel gathered his wits and floated above Superman. 

“F-fine,” he said to the alien hero.  “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Superman said tersely.  “Got caught up stopping a robbery in Metropolis.”  The Kryptonian surveyed the chaos below and frowned. 

“If you had told me what the problem was here, I would have come sooner.”

“Sorry,” Captain Marvel replied sheepishly.  No matter what he did, the crimson hero always felt like he was letting the other members of the League down.  Wonder Woman often seemed off-put by his cheery demeanor.  Batman was always a step ahead of him, even though he had the wisdom of Solomon.  And Superman…

“Captain!” Superman yelled, cutting the magical hero’s train of thought short.  “We need to stop this thing before any more civilians are hurt.  I’ll distract it.  You help get the people below to safety.”

Captain Marvel barely had time to nod before his super-powered companion soared upward, flipped over in midair, and dived towards the mechanical menace.  Captain Marvel watched as Superman landed a powerful blow to the titan’s midsection, sending it stumbling backwards.  The sound of screaming civilians drew the magical hero’s attention to the streets below, where he could see groups of panicked citizens running from the danger.  Suddenly, one of the buildings began to collapse.  Without a second thought, the crimson hero dived towards the danger.  The speed of Mercury coursing through him, Captain Marvel managed to scoop up three civilians and fly off just as rubble crashed down where the trio had been standing moments before.  Touching down near an ambulance, he set down his load, who thanked him profusely for saving them.  Resisting the urge to blush, Captain Marvel uttered a brief “it was nothing” before turning his focus back to the countless innocents still in danger. 

As Superman continued to combat the mechanical monstrosity, Captain Marvel worked to transport civilians away from the danger.  The Man of Steel managed to halt the colossus’ advance and prevent it from causing more destruction.  Much to Captain Marvel’s relief, they seemed to be gaining control of the situation. 

“Is that everyone?” the magical hero asked a paramedic as he gently handed her a young boy.

“M-my… _sniff_ …my mommy is missing,” the frightened child piped up meekly.  “I g-got lost when the monster showed up.  And I couldn’t… _sniff_ …find her”  A pang of sympathy hit Captain Marvel, and he knelt down to the boy’s eye level. 

“What’s your name?” Captain Marvel asked gently.

“Josh Beck,” the boy responded.  “My mom’s name is Sarah… _sniff_ …”

“What does she look like?” the superhero questioned.

“She has brown hair… _sniff_ …” the terrified boy answered, “and a green jacket.”

“Don’t worry,” Captain Marvel said reassuringly.  “I’ll get her back.”  He gave the paramedic a curt nod before taking to the sky once more.

The crimson hero flew through the wreckage, searching warily for any sign of citizens trapped in the rubble.  Much to his dismay, he found no signs of life.  Unwilling to give up, he scoured the debris again, searching for any sign of the boy’s mother.  Once again, his search yielded nothing.  Setting down beside the remnants of a tower, the magical champion looked around in frustration. 

“No, no, no, no…” he said frantically.  “She’s got to be around here somewhere.  She can’t be…it just…no…”

A small cry echoed through the abandoned street.

Captain Marvel perked up and listened.  Once again the sound came, more desperate and terse than the last.  Whirling to face the direction the sound came from, the crimson hero dashed down the street, jumping over a small pile of concrete.  He listened again.  The plea came once more, and this time he could make out the words. 

“Please…anyone…is anyone there?  I’m trapped under here…please.”  Captain Marvel turned around and knelt down.  A pair of hazel eyes met his. 

“Oh thank goodness…” the trapped woman said, a mixture of pain and relief playing in her voice.  “Please get help!  I’m trapped under here!  I lost my son when that…thing…attacked!  I need to find him!  Please!”

“Don’t worry ma’am,” Captain Marvel answered, His calm tome belying his true emotions.  “I can help.  Don’t worry.  Everything’s going to be okay.”

Utilizing his tremendous strength, the champion began to clear the debris.  Piece by piece, he unearthed the buried survivor.  Finally, he succeeded in freeing the panicked woman.  Aside from several scrapes and bruises, she seemed relatively unharmed. 

Being as gentle as he could, Captain Marvel picked up the shaken civilian and surged skyward.  Reigning in his superhuman speed, the magical hero carried the injured woman back to the paramedics and watched as she was reunited with her son.  As the horrified boy cried in his mother’s arms, Captain Marvel felt a warm feeling well inside his chest.  With newfound determination, he shot skyward once more to help Superman finish the fight. 

_Later…_

Captain Marvel shielded his eyes from the blanket of snow dancing around him endlessly.  A white veil blanketed the outskirts of Fawcett, reducing his visibility tremendously.  He once again wondered why he didn’t feel cold.  Though he had the power of six gods, he didn’t recall the wizard saying anything about being magically insulated.  He guessed that it had something to do with his lightning powers, but just couldn’t be sure.  Touching down in an alley, the champion stepped behind a dumpster and looked around to make sure no one was nearby.  With the snowstorm reducing visibility to zero, no one would be able to see him change.  He took a deep breath.

“ **Shazam!** ”

A bolt of lightning crashed down, lighting up the alley.  After a moment the flash faded, leaving behind several puddles of melted snow and a tired nine-year-old. 

Billy Batson stretched, looked around, and broke into a grin.  No longer immune to the cold, he shivered.  The cheerful boy pulled down his beanie to cover his ears and snuggled into his worn jacket.  His residence was a few blocks away, but he figured it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to walk there.  With a skip in his step, he emerged from the alley and started down the sidewalk. 

Billy kept smiling enthusiastically as he trudged through the snow, still elated by the events that had transpired earlier.  As he walked, he began to recollect the day’s events.

After helping Superman to take down the robot and catch the bad guys, the Man of Steel thanked him for his help. 

“You saved a lot of people today, Captain,” the Kryptonian said.  “I’m glad you’re part of the League.”  Captain Marvel found himself blushing bashfully even as Superman flew off to aid in another mission.  It was at that embarrassing moment that the media chose to ambush him.  His cheeks still warm, the hero answered the plethora of questions directed at him. 

_Who was responsible for this attack?  Do you feel that the people of Fawcett City are in danger?  Is it true that you and Wonder Woman are dating?_

After navigating the gauntlet of voracious reporters, Captain Marvel flew off, eager to get some rest…

A gust of wind tore Billy’s find from his mirthful daydreams.  The small boy stumbled as a strong gust of wind blew by.  He regained his balance, only for another gust to blow him into a pile of snow.  Emerging from the snow drift, Billy shivered in his now-soaked clothes. 

“ _Gee, it’s…really cold,”_ he thought, his teeth chattering.  “ _Maybe I can find somewhere to get out of the storm for a little bit…”_

The chilled child surveyed the street around him.  His eyes settled on a glowing sign advertising a diner, and he smiled.  Without another thought, he crossed the street and went inside. 

As Billy entered the small establishment, a delicious scent wafted from the kitchen, causing his mouth to water.  The diner was warm and well-lit.  The boy’s smile widened, and he thanked his good fortune...which promptly ran out.

“Hey, you!” a voice yelled from across the diner.  Billy turned to find a stout man staring at him, a mop in one hand and a dirty dish in the other. 

“Yeah, you!” the man continued.  “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I…I…” Billy tried to answer. 

“This place is for paying customers _only!_ ” the man stated angrily.  “Not for street trash like you!”

“P-please mister,” the cold boy pleaded.  “It’s freezing outside, and I fell into a pile of snow.  I just want to stay inside to warm up for a few minutes.”

“No way!” the cold-hearted owner yelled.  “Either buy something or get out!”

“Just a few minutes?” Billy begged.  “I’m so cold.”

“I don’t care if you’re a superhero!” the man retorted unkindly.  “Get out!”

A few swats from a mop later, Billy once again found himself exposed to the elements.  Resisting the urge to transform into Captain Marvel and go back inside, he continued home.

_Later…_

After an arduous trek through the snow, Billy finally arrived in front of the derelict building he called home.  He jogged up the stairs and opened the door to his living space.  He entered just in time to see a rat scurry into a hole in the wall.  Rubbing his hands together for warmth, the weary boy walked over to his closet and removed his beanie and jacket.  His enthusiasm chilled, Billy walked over to the mattress lying on the floor and sat down.  He let out a deep sigh and watched his foggy breath dissipate.

“Tomorrow will be a good day,” he said to no one in particular.  Curling up in a pile of ratty blankets, he quickly drifted off to sleep.


	2. Trouble

Trouble

Superman very rarely needed coffee.

As Clark Kent, he would occasionally partake in a cup with a co-worker or interviewee in order to fit in.  Truthfully, however, the Man of Steel drew most of the energy he needed from Earth’s sun and his healthy diet. 

Thus, when the alien hero walked into the Watchtower’s break room with a steaming mug in hand, he drew apprehensive glances from several other heroes.  Taking the awkward situation in stride, he gave a nod of acknowledgement to Green Arrow and Black Canary, who were staring at him perplexedly.  Paying no heed to his companions’ collective concern, Superman took a seat by a window, set down his mug, and opened up the newspaper he had tucked under his arm.  Taking a sip of his coffee, the worn superhero quickly lost himself in the news. 

Superman sat quietly, reading about the world as he orbited above it.  Other members of the Justice League would enter and leave the room periodically as they departed for missions or personal matters.  The Man of Steel stopped briefly to chat with Aquaman, who had just returned from an extended stay in Atlantis.  The underwater kingdom had been attacked several weeks ago.  After the threat had been averted, the King had stayed in order to head reparations and assure his people that they were safe. 

The conversation came and went quickly, and Superman once again found himself engrossed in a newspaper article, one written by Clark Kent.  The alien hero found himself inwardly grimacing as he picked out the numerous errors riddling the column.  With the surge in super-criminal activity in several cities, he had been pressed for time, and his work had suffered for it.  He regretted not giving it to Lois to review…

“Clark,” greeted a monotonous voice.  Superman looked up from his newspaper to find Batman glaring down at him, a stoic expression plastered on his face. 

“Bruce,” he replied cordially, setting down his newspaper.  The Dark Knight took a seat beside his super-powered companion, conveying no emotion whatsoever.

“I heard about the attack on Fawcett City yesterday,” Batman said calmly.  “You and Captain Marvel did good work in minimizing civilian casualties and collateral damage.”

“Thanks…” Superman replied, taken aback by receiving a compliment from Gotham’s guardian.  “I was glad to help him out, seeing how crime has sprung up in Fawcett City recently.  It seems like Metropolis is the only city that hasn’t seen a rise in criminal activity.”  The alien superhero paused and looked down at his article. 

“Maybe I should write an article about that.  How are things in Gotham?”

“Worse than they are in Fawcett,” Batman answered, his expression darkening.  “Someone staged a jailbreak at Arkham three nights ago.  In the chaos, the Riddler, the Joker, Mr. Freeze, and Poison Ivy managed to escape.”

“Any luck finding them?” Superman asked. 

“Robin and I managed to capture both Poison Ivy and the Joker and return them to Arkham.  We have also located Nigma’s hideout just outside Blüdhaven.  Hopefully, we can flush him and his goons out tonight. 

“And Freeze?” questioned the Man of Steel as he took another sip of coffee. 

“No luck,” the Dark Knight responded tersely.  “And to make matters worse, Captain Cold and Killer Frost have managed to escape from Belle Reve.

“Three escaped ice villains?” Superman asked curiously.  “Do you think they’re related?”

“No way to be sure,” Batman replied, his voice serious.  “I intend to investigate.  Until then, I’ve alerted the Flash and Firestorm as to the disappearances.

“Good,” Superman said.  The Man of Steel finished off his coffee and folded his newspaper.  Tucking it under his arm, he stood and looked down at his masked ally.  “We should bring it up at the meeting this afternoon.  Organize a patrol to help locate them.  Maybe Captain Marvel, Diana, and me.”  Somehow, Batman’s expression grew even more serious.

“Have you seen Captain Marvel since the attack on Fawcett?” the detective questioned.  Superman thought for a few seconds before giving a quick, “no.”

“He didn’t report for monitor duty this morning,” the Dark Knight explained.  And I haven’t been able to reach him on his comm.”

“Do you think something happened to him?” Superman asked, raising one eyebrow inquisitively. 

For the second time that morning, Batman didn’t have an answer.

_Elsewhere…_

Billy ran down the sidewalk, being careful to avoid the piles of snow on the ground.  The fleeing boy stumbled briefly as he rounded a corner, but quickly regained his momentum.  He peered over his shoulder, silently hoping that his assailants had given up.  Much to his disappointment, the three teenagers were still hot on his tail.  Silently cursing his luck, the homeless hero dodged a lamppost, rounded another corner, and nearly collided with a young woman carrying a bag of groceries.  Billy yelled a panicked apology as he continued to run, his heart racing.  Turning his attention forward, he noticed an alleyway up ahead.  Desperate to escape his aggressors, he ducked into the alley and hid behind a dumpster.  Crouching down, the boy listened as the sounds of the violent trio grew louder before stopping at the entrance to the alley.

Fear swelling in his chest, the nine-year-old contemplated turning into Captain Marvel.  All he needed to do was say one word, and he could easily take these bullies…

Billy perished the thought as soon as it came.  No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t use his powers on a bunch of teenagers.  It wasn’t right. 

Suddenly, a loud _clang_ rang out from the dumpster concealing the chilled child.  Billy looked up to find one of the teens atop the dumpster, glaring down at him like a vulture.  The teen jumped down and brushed the snow off his jacket before fixing his predatory gaze on the boy.

“Heyyyyy kiddo,” he drawled with a mischievous grin.  His breath reeked of alcohol, a scent which Billy had grown all too accustomed to.

“Ah!” the magical boy cried, jumping back.  A second wind rushed through him, and he bolted towards the street.  Before he could escape, another teen grabbed him by the back of his torn jacket and threw him to the ground. 

“Where’re ya goin’ cutie?” the girl asked Billy cruelly.  “We just wanna talk.”

Billy recoiled in her grip, shivering from both the cold and his nerves.  This was not his first encounter with the cruel street gang.  The rowdy group often found sport in chasing him through the streets, catching him, and beating him up.  Billy shuddered as he remembered the last time they had caught him.  He had walked with a limp for a week afterward.

“Alright kid,” said the third teen forcefully.  “I’m tired of chasing you around.  Give me your money, and my friends and I will be on our way.”

“His hands shaking, Billy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few folded bills.  He had spent hours shoveling snow in order to earn a few dollars.  The impoverished boy had hoped to buy a pair of gloves or a blanket.  Unfortunately, the teens had found him as he was heading home, and had given chase.  Despite being athletic for his age, he was no match for the malicious trio.

Keeping his head down, the cornered child held out his meager pay.  The leader ripped the bills from his hand and counted them absent-mindedly. 

“This isn’t enough,” he said as he put the money into his pocket.

“But…that’s all I have…” Billy answered meekly.  Suddenly, a rough hand grasped his shoulder.  He looked up to find the girl staring down at him, bloodthirst burning in her eyes. 

“Well, that’s too bad,” she said evilly.

Suddenly, a wave of panic surged through Billy, followed by a rush of adrenaline.  With a swift motion, he broke free of the teen’s grip and dashed towards the street.  One of the ruffians attempted to tackle him, but the boy sidestepped, causing his assailant to dive into a pile of snow.  Suppressing a snicker, he emerged from the alley and dashed down the sidewalk towards his hovel.  He heard shouting, and peered over his shoulder to find the trio running after him.

As his pursuers slowly gained on him, Billy tried to think of a way to escape.  He considered cutting through the subway.  Maybe he could lose them down there…

The desperate kid’s train of thought was interrupted as one of the teens lunged at him and grabbed him by the ankles.  The fleeing boy fell hard, slamming his knee into the concrete.  He tried to roll over, but found himself pinned to the ground. 

“Please!” he yelled frightfully.  “Let me go!  Help!”

Deaf to his victim’s pleas, one of the teens planted his foot in Billy’s lower back, causing the boy to cry out in pain.

“Alllrightt, squirt,” he drawled, his speech slurred.  “Let’s have some _fun_!”  Before the homeless hero could react, the boy lifted him by his collar and landed a swift blow to his stomach.  Billy let out a pained groan and struggled to escape, but his efforts were for naught.  His assailants quickly swarmed him and violently vented their aggression.  Billy curled into himself and attempted to shield his face from their blows.  After several torturous minutes, the teen holding him threw him to the ground. 

“I think he’s learned his lesson,” the leader of the group said. 

“Nahh,” the drunk member said.  “I’m having too much fun!”

As Billy struggled to get up, the intoxicated teen pounced on him and thrust his head into the snow.  Surprised, Billy coughed as slush filled his lungs.  The suffocating boy struggled in his aggressor’s grasp, frantically trying to get a breath of air.  As darkness began to play on the edge of his vision, shouting erupted from behind him.  His strength receding, the injured boy felt his assailant’s grip loosen.  Billy rolled onto his back and began to cough violently.  Within his panic-filled mind, a single thought arose:

_I need to escape!_

Putting forth all the strength he could muster, Billy shakily got to his feet.  He turned around to find a middle-aged man staring at him, a concerned look on his face. 

“You okay, kid?” he asked calmly.

“Y-y-yeah… _cough_ …I’m o-okay,” the hurt boy stammered.  “Thanks, mister.  I…I’ve got to go.”

Before his mysterious savior could respond, he was gone.

_At the Watchtower…_

A loud whirr announced Captain Marvel’s arrival on the Watchtower.  The crimson crime-fighter emerged from a zeta-tube and looked around to make sure Batman wasn’t nearby.  He had missed monitor duty already, and had left his communicator in his room.  The Dark Knight was bound to be upset with him. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, Billy exited out into the hall and made his way towards the infirmary.  While he hated to take supplies from the Watchtower, he was out of food, and he needed something to bandage his knee before it got infected.  Besides, he doubted anyone would miss one roll of…

“Captain,” came a cold voice from behind him.  Captain Marvel turned to find Batman glaring at him disappointedly.

_Oh no…_

“Hey, Batman,” the magical hero greeted awkwardly before launching into the excuse he had prepared.  “Look, I’m really sorry I missed monitor duty.  You see, I got held up trying to…”

“We can discuss this later,” Batman said, his voice stone cold and unwavering.  “Right now, we have an emergency.”


	3. Fear

Fear

_Is it weird that I think this is normal?_

Captain Marvel found his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he flew through the flooded streets of Coast City, transporting civilians away from the raging waters and searching for dry areas to put them down. Earlier, he had arrived at the Watchtower in search of provisions.  Before he could obtain them, Batman dragged him into an emergency meeting with several other members of the league.  A sudden storm had stricken Coast City, flooding roads and causing tremendous amounts of damage.  Before the crimson crime-fighter could blink, he was being deployed to the city to aid in relief efforts.

For the past several hours, he and the majority of the Justice League had worked tirelessly to save civilians and mitigate damage from the floodwater.  Though the super-powered coalition had managed to avert much of the destruction, the bridge to the area off the mainland had been damaged during the torrent, rendering it impassable.  With trapped citizens in desperate need of rescue, it fell to those with the power of flight to bring the panicked people to safety.

“You’re safe now, sir,” Captain Marvel said calmly as he gently set down a middle-aged man.  The suit-clad citizen stuttered a shaky “thank you” before he was taken aside by a stern-faced paramedic.  Giving a nod of acknowledgement, the magical champion rose into the air and shot towards the flooded area once more. 

As the friendly superhero soared above the bracken rivers running through the streets, he caught sight of Superman in the distance.  The Man of Steel was flying between streets, using his icy breath to block off the water.  Captain Marvel quickly approached his Kryptonian companion, eager to help out. 

“Superman!” he yelled.  “I’ve evacuated City Hall.  How’re Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter doing?

“Hal managed to evacuate Ferris Air,” the alien hero answered.  “J’onn is still trying to save a group trapped on the outskirts of the city.”

“Captain,” came Batman’s voice from Captain Marvel’s communicator, “I need you to rescue another group trapped in the city center.  The water is rising, and several buildings are starting to give out.”

“I’m on it,” Marvel said, determination rising in his voice.  Giving a quick nod to Superman, the magical champion turned and soared towards the towering skyscrapers in the distance.

As he flew towards his objective, Captain Marvel once again found himself recounting the events of the last few hours.  In the rush of attending to his responsibilities, his brutal encounter with the bullies seemed like a distant memory.  Although Fawcett City was hundreds of miles away, Billy would likely be back home in a matter of hours, at which point he would still have to find food and medical supplies.  Batman had interrupted him before he could grab some bandages or a snack.  The supplies would still be available after the crisis was averted.  He could probably just stop by the Watchtower and grab what he needed before zeta-ing back to Fawcett. 

Billy grimaced internally as he remembered giving the cruel teenagers his meager pay.  One of the stores near his residence had put some winter supplies, including blankets and gloves, on sale.  Seeing an opportunity, the resourceful boy had spent the better part of the month walking dogs and doing odd jobs to save up the small amount.  He doubted that it was possible to earn back the money before winter ended…

“Help!” a panicked voice from below cried, tearing Captain Marvel from his lamentations.  He peered down to find a group of civilians standing on top of a skyscraper, waving their hands in a frantic gambit to get the airborne hero’s attention.  Swiftly altering his trajectory, he dived towards the terrified assemblage and touched down gracefully on the roof. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you out of here in no time,” he said, putting on a confident expression to calm the citizens.  A single young man stepped forward, straightened both his tie and demeanor, and looked Captain Marvel in the eye. 

“Thank you,” he said, an artificial calm in his tone.  “Most of the members of our firm are still trapped in the building.  The elevators aren’t working, and many of our employees can’t make it up the stairs.”

“Try to get as many people up to the roof as possible,” Captain Marvel instructed, the Wisdom of Solomon coursing through his mind as he tried to determine how long the building would stand.  “I’ll begin flying people to the refugee center nearby.”

“Take Mrs. Rubenstein first,” the young man replied, gesturing to an elderly lady holding a Teacup Poodle.

“I will help evacuate the building,” added a voice behind Captain Marvel.  The crimson superhero turned to find Wonder Woman hovering above him, a disgruntled cat in her arms.  “The situation is under control across the bridge, and Superman managed to seal off most of the flooded areas.  All that’s left to do is evacuate the rest of the civilians.

“Okay,” he replied.  Carefully picking up the elderly woman, the powerful superhero took to the skies once more.  As he carried his frightened passenger to safety, he broke into a small smile. 

For the first time today, things seemed to be looking up.

_Later, at the Watchtower…_

Captain Marvel sifted through cabinets and drawers of medical supplies, searching for bandages and an antiseptic.  The magical hero took another bite of his sandwich as he opened another cabinet and looked through the contents.  With a satisfied grin, he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

_Perfect_.

“Captain?”

The red hero turned to find Black Canary standing in the doorway, her discerning gaze surveying the pile of snacks and medical supplies on the counter beside him. 

“Mmph, um…” he mumbled before quickly swallowing his bite and giving the heroine a nervous smile.  “Hi!”

“You probably shouldn’t be eating in here,” she said, her voice friendly yet stern.

“Oh!  Sorry!” Captain Marvel replied sheepishly.  He quickly threw away his sandwich and straightened his posture, trying to look as mature as possible. 

“Are you hurt?” the blonde asked her imposing companion.  The magic crime-fighter gave her a curious look and followed her gaze to the pile of supplies by his elbow.  His eyes widened in understanding. 

“No!” he answered, his discomfort growing with each passing moment.  “No, I’m fine.  It’s just…well…it never hurts to be prepared, you know?”  He gave an optimistic smile in an attempt to mask his nervousness.  He could feel Black Canary’s eyes staring through him, analyzing his unusual behavior with quiet precision. 

“Sooo…I didn’t see you in Coast City today,” Captain Marvel diverted.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Dinah responded.  “I had some matters to take care of in Star City.”

“Sounds…um…fun,” Captain Marvel replied nervously.

“Not really,” the composed heroine said.  “I heard that you were instrumental in saving civilians today.  Diana was really impressed with your efforts.”

“Well, gee, thanks,” he responded.  “I was just happy to help…”

Captain Marvel cleared his throat and shifted nervously.  He couldn’t take much more of this.

“Well, I should be getting back to Fawcett,” he stated.  Giving his blonde companion a smile, he walked brusquely out of the room and to the zeta tubes.  In an instant, he was in a snow-covered alley in Fawcett City.  The hero smiled, happy to be out of the uncomfortable situation. 

Then he realized that he had forgotten the supplies.

_Later…_

Billy padded slowly through the ankle-deep snow, his movement impeded by the icy obstruction and his injured knee.  He surveyed the quiet street as he walked, searching for any signs of the rowdy teens.  Thankfully, they didn’t appear to be nearby.  After his harrowing day, the little hero had no desire for any more excitement.  While Captain Marvel had the stamina of Atlas, Billy Batson struggled to stay up past 10:00.  Recently, he had found himself tiring even more easily than normal.  He wondered if it had to do with the recent surges in crime and emergencies that required Captain Marvel…

A rock in the snow caused him to stumble, sending a shock of pain through his knee.  The weary boy looked down at the unsightly gash on his knee, visible through the tear in his pant leg.  The wound looked worse than it had earlier.  The skin around it had begun to swell, and it still stung.

_Oh gee, this doesn’t look good.  I really need to find something to patch this up._

His energy waning, the worried boy continued down the street with grim determination.  As he continued towards his abode, the snowfall grew in intensity and the number of pedestrians steadily declined.  Finally, his stamina ran out, and the homeless hero leaned over in an attempt to catch his breath.  Lifting his head wearily, he noticed a small drug store nearby. 

_Should I go in?  The last time I tried to get out of a storm, I got chased out.  But I really need to find somewhere to stop for a minute.  And I can’t just wait out here..._

After careful consideration, the contemplative child opted to go inside.  Keeping his head down, the chilled boy snuck in the door and took a seat in a chair near the entrance.  Letting out a sigh of relief, Billy adjusted his ragged jacket rubbed his hands together.  An involuntarily shiver ran down the boy’s spine, and he noticed that he felt unusually fatigued.  He looked around, fearful of being discovered.  Thankfully, no one seemed to take notice of his quiet presence.  As Captain Marvel, he often enjoyed the attention of the media and the many kind citizens who went out of their way to thank him or give him tokens of their gratitude.  As Billy, he was more often the subject of less positive attention. 

As he sat and regained his strength, he continued to think about how very different he was from his alter ego.  Where the magical superhero was tall, muscular, and nimble, Billy was short, scrawny, and easily winded.  Captain Marvel had an easy time making friends and allies, but Billy had no one whom he could trust…

“Hey, kid!” a voice rang out, sending a shiver down Billy’s spine.  He turned to see a man standing a short distance, staring at him intently.  His heart froze. 

Before the man could say anything else, Billy jumped up and ran out of the store.  His exhaustion forgotten, the fleeing child limped through the snow.  He heard the telltale sign of footfalls behind him, and turned his head to find the man in pursuit, holding something in his hands.  The homeless hero let out a frightened gasp and tried to pick up his pace, but only succeeded in sending another rush of pain through his leg.

_I won’t be able to outrun him like this.  I need to find a way to escape._

Billy stumbled through the snow, searching frantically for any method of escape. 

“…stop…you…” he could hear the man yelling behind him.  Terror swelled in his chest, and he found new strength. 

Passing an alley, the hurt boy noticed a chain link fence blocking the way. 

_Maybe I can climb it and get away._

Cutting to his right, he ran to the fence and jumped onto it.  Running on sheer force of will, he started climbing up the metal barrier.  Rung by rung he climbed closer to his freedom.  The sounds of his pursuer’s footfalls quickly grew near as he continued his daring escape.  Turning around, he watched as his assailant ran into the alley and stopped in front of the fence.  Turning back to his heart-pounding task, Billy reached up for the top of the fence…

…and his footing slipped.

The horrified boy fell back, plummeting ungracefully into the snow.  Quickly rolling over, Billy found his aggressor glaring down at him.


	4. Friends

Friends

Billy felt the chain-link fence press into his back as he retreated fearfully.  His mysterious pursuer stood silently, looking over the boy’s shivering form with a blank expression.  Billy forced down a lump in his throat as he tried to devise an escape plan.  He wanted desperately to say the magic word and disappear in a flash of red and gold, but getting to safety was not worth surrendering his secret identity.  He had no hope of beating his assailant in a fair fight, but maybe he could find a place to hide…

Billy’s train of thought was derailed when the enigmatic figure before him set down the parcel he was carrying and knelt down to the boy’s eye level.

“Woah, kid,” the stranger said, his tone measured and calm.  “You alright?”  Billy stared at him nervously, unsure of how to proceed.  He took a deep breath and sat up, wincing at the newfound pain in his back.

“Um…I’m fine,” he replied hesitantly.  “Just a little shaken up is all.”

“I can tell,” the man said, looking him over.  “Did those kids give you any more trouble?”

Billy’s eyes widened as he recognized his kind companion.

“You saved me from those bullies earlier!” he said.

“Yep,” the man said nonchalantly.  “Looks like they worked you over pretty well first.”  Billy grimaced and curled into himself, suddenly self-conscious about his torn clothing, his tousled hair, and his numerous injuries.  He peered down at the still-untreated gash on his leg and winced involuntarily. 

“It’s not your fault, sir,” the injured hero said politely.  He tenuously stood, using the fence to maintain his balance. 

“I see you wandering around here often,” the man said, brushing some snow from his greyish-white hair.  “What’s your name?”  Billy hesitated, quietly assessing the seemingly well-intended stranger.  People were rarely this nice to him.  Not unless he was Captain Marvel or they had an ulterior motive.

Well, if something went wrong, he always had a way out. 

“I’m Billy,” he said with a half-smile.  He took a step away from the wall, tripped, and face-planted into a pile of snow.  A firm pair of hands gripped his shoulders and helped him to his feet.  His eyes met the man’s determined gaze, and a feeling of safety drowned out his lingering fear.

“Call me Dudley,” the man said, his voice calm.  “We should get out of the snow.  Do you live around here?”  Billy shrunk into himself.

“Um…,” he responded meekly.  He could tell where this was going.

“Is it close enough to walk there?” Dudley questioned as he picked up his bag.  Once again, Billy hesitated.

“N-no…” he answered, trying to keep a straight face.  “I don’t think we’d be able to make it there.  The snow’s starting to pick up.”  In truth, his residence was only a few short blocks away.  Still, he wasn’t comfortable showing anyone where he lived.  If this stranger really turned out to be some diabolical villain out to get Captain Marvel, then giving away such sensitive information could prove disastrous.  Besides, he didn’t live in the safest area…

“Well, if you can walk, my friend owns the store we just came from.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we sat for a few minutes to get out of the storm.  I know he has some medical supplies in stock.  We can get you patched up, and maybe find something to eat.  Sound good to you?”

Suddenly the wind picked up, whipping up several snow drifts around the frigid pair.  Not wanting to stay outside, the worried child nodded and followed his friend out of the alley.

_Later…_

Dudley slowly paced through the aisle, mentally checking off the items he needed to attend to Billy injuries.  He was still taken aback by the boy’s unusual reaction when he had noticed him at the front of the store.  He had expected the kid to perk up, maybe to give him a distrusting look.  What he had not expected was for Billy to jump up and run out into the snow.  The boy’s first assumption seemed to be that he was in trouble.  Dudley guessed he got chased away often.

Dudley’s mind returned to the task at hand.  He walked a few steps down and stopped in front of a selection of bandages.  Taking a small box off the shelf, he turned and walked back to the counter.  There he found a black-haired young man at the register, counting a stack of bills.  The shop owner looked up at the aging man and gave a cordial nod. 

“Thanks again for letting us in,” Dudley said, his friendly voice contrasting with his stern demeanor.  The storeowner gave a laugh and replaced his money in the register.

“No problem, Dudley,” he said.  “It’s the least I could do for you fixing my heater.  I don’t think I could have worked another day in a freezer.”

“Sure thing,” Dudley responded casually.  “No one should be forced to stay in the cold.”  He gave an involuntary glance to the boy by the window.  Billy sat in uneasy silence, staring down at the steaming cup in his shaky hands.  Even inside, he was still shivering like a windswept leaf.

“Who is he?” the storeowner queried, his gaze fixed on his young patron.

“His name’s Billy,” Dudley explained.  “I ran into him on the way here.  He was being roughed up by that local group of teens. 

“You mean the ones who keep throwing eggs at my store window?” the young man interjected.

“Yeah,” Dudley replied.  “When I got there they were trying to suffocate the poor kid in the snow.  I yelled at them and they turned tail.  I tried to talk to the kid, but he took off too.”

“He seemed really spooked when he came in earlier,” the friendly shop owner commented.  “Like he was trying to avoid being seen.  I just left him alone.”

“I don’t think people normally let him hang around,” Dudley replied, a pang of sympathy rising in his voice. 

“He doesn’t look very old,” the shop owner speculated.  “Ten, maybe eleven.”

“Maybe he’ll tell me,” Dudley suggested.  He handed his friend a ten-dollar bill before walking over to the scared boy.

“How’re you doing, kid?” he questioned as he set down some his supplies on the floor. 

“O-Okay, sir” Billy replied as he involuntarily shrank into himself.  His grip tightened on the cup in his hands, as if Dudley might try to take it from him.  Seeing the boy’s reaction, Dudley forced a reassuring grin as he opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a box of bandages. 

“Here,” he said as calmly as possible.  “Let me take a look at your knee.”  Billy hesitated for a moment before sitting up straight and taking a sip of hot chocolate.  Interpreting the boy’s silence as a “yes” Dudley gently grabbed hold of his ankle and examined the wound.  The injury itself wasn’t deep, but it looked infected.  With a sigh, Dudley poured some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth. 

“This might sting a little,” Dudley warned.  He gently applied the cloth to Billy’s knee, causing him to cry out.

“Sorry, kid,” the composed man said as he applied a bandage to the injury. 

“It’s okay,” Billy managed, pain still painted on his features.  After a second his regained his composure and took another drink.

“So, how old are you?” Dudley asked in an attempt to break the tension.  “Ten?”

“Nine,” Billy answered, clearly less than comfortable with the situation.

“Do those kids pick on you often?” Dudley questioned as he bandaged a cut on Billy’s arm.

“Not really,” Billy answered before averting his gaze.  The kid was a terrible liar.  Dudley gave him an incredulous look causing him to shift nervously.

“What were you doing here earlier?” the hurt boy asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.

“Just fixing his heater,” Dudley explained tersely, more interested in his young friend’s situation.  “Sorry I startled you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” was Billy’s only reply.  The injured boy winced as Dudley disinfected another cut. 

“Is there a reason you ran away from me?” Dudley pried, his tone persistent yet gentle.  Billy didn’t answer, opting instead to stare down at his worn shoes.  The chilled child shivered, eliciting a worried look from Dudley.

The two continued to converse at Dudley patched up the boy’s wounds.  Dudley gently pressed the kid for details about his situation, but only succeeded in making Billy act even more nervous.  Finally, Dudley finished tending to his young friend, knowing little more about him than his age and his lack of living parents.  Putting the remaining supplies away, he stood up and looked back at his friend at the counter.

_He probably wanted to leave an hour ago.  The kid and I have been holding him up.  We should leave before the storm picks up again._

Giving Billy a curt nod, Dudley walked over to the counter.

“Thanks again for letting us stay,” he said cordially.  “We’ll get out of your hair.”

“No problem,” the young man replied.  “What about the kid?”

“I don’t know,” Dudley answered hesitantly.  “But I don’t think it’s safe to let him roam around in this weather.”  At the storeowner’s affirmation, Dudley turned back to find Billy’s chair empty.  He was gone.

_Elsewhere…_

Shadows slid stealthily along the floor of an abandoned warehouse, shrinking away from the moonlight filtering through the windows.  In the murk stood a short, well-dressed man.  A throng of robotic monkeys flanked him, casting his impatient expression in an eerie viridian glow.

“I expected him to be here by now,” the man stated irritably.  His robotic thralls cackled happily in response, seemingly ignorant of their master’s displeasure.

“Professor Ivo,” a pleasant voice from the shadows greeted.  Out of a corner stepped a bald man in a dark blue suit, a predatory smile on his face. 

“Mr. Luthor,” Ivo replied, doing nothing to hide his irritation.  “How nice of you to finally arrive.”

“Forgive my tardiness,” Lex Luthor said, his pristine decorum unfazed by his acquaintance’s temper.  “I was delayed by a press conference which ran late.  Lexcorp is working on a new housing project to help obtain some more good press and raise funds for our…new organization.”

“Indeed,” Ivo responded, his peevishness fading away.  “I understand you require my technology.”

“Yes,” Luthor replied.  “My associates and I are working to create a group to further our collective goals.  We feel that your inventions would be ideal for our needs.”

“I might be willing to consider your offer,” Ivo began, straightening his vest, “but there’s something I would like in exchange.”

“Oh?” Luthor asked. 

“Two members of the Justice League recently interrupted a test run of one of my robots and destroyed it,” the mad scientist explained, his composure wavering.

“Ah, yes,” Luthor affirmed, recollecting the recent events in Fawcett.  “Superman and Captain Marvel.”

“Indeed,” Ivo fumed.  “This isn’t the first time they’ve interfered with my work.  I want them out of the picture.  If you can accomplish that, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I believe that can be arranged,” Luthor stated matter-of-factly.  “I have experience with Superman…”  He straightened his tie. 

“…and I know someone who might be able to eliminate Captain Marvel.”


	5. Concerns

Concerns

“Yaaaawwwwwwwnnnnnnn.”

Billy Batson stretched and sat up, the fog of dreams still weighing on his eyelids.  His threadbare blanket fell to the floor and the cold silently enveloped his small frame, sending a shiver gliding up his spine.  He let out a small cough and quickly rewrapped himself.  Another shiver shot through him.  He really wished his room had a thermostat.

Struggling to his feet, the young hero stumbled in the darkness as his grogginess faded away.  A dim light filtered through the window on the far wall and played across the bare walls of his abode.  The top half of the glass had been shattered by the rowdy local teens, forcing Captain Marvel to board up the hole in the wall.  The young boy padded over to the window and adjusted the blanket draped over his shoulders.  The unbroken glass was completely iced over and gleamed with an ethereal allure.  A frigid breeze filtered through the gap, much to Billy’s dismay.  He really needed to fix that before he froze to death.

Letting out a sigh, he walked over to his mattress, leaned down, and picked up the small analog clock by the wall.  The crystal-faced timekeeper was a gift from one of the civilians Cap had saved.  It wasn’t very big, but Billy could tell it was valuable.  He refused to sell it though.  Even if he needed the money, he knew it meant something to the lady.  So it meant something to him. 

The tired child squinted in an attempt to find the time.

_8:25?  No…that’s the minute hand…5:40…5:44?  Yeah, 5:44.  I should probably get going._

Billy dropped his blanket before walking to his small shelf and retrieving a set of clothes and his Justice League communicator, which he kept hidden under a pile of shirts.  Within minutes he was ready to go.  Putting on his beanie and jacket and tucking his communicator into his pocket, he surveyed his squalid dwelling once more.  Satisfied he hadn’t forgotten anything, he strolled out the door and into the waiting storm.

_Later…_

Billy couldn’t help but grin widely as he trudged through the storm.  His offers to shovel snow had been very well-received by the local storeowners and restauranteurs.  The sun had just risen and he already had $5 to show for his efforts.  One gentleman had even given him a bagel and a cup filled with hot chocolate to take with him.  He really loved hot chocolate, especially on frigid days like this.  The sweet, steaming drink was really good, though not quite as good as the stuff Dudley had given him yesterday…

Billy’s smile faded as he recollected the adventures of the previous day.  Dudley had chased him through the snow just to make sure he was alright.  Then the kind man had taken him back to the store, given him hot chocolate, and patched him up…

The young hero glanced down at the large bandage on his knee.  The gash looked much better than the day before, and it didn’t hurt anymore.

A grimace crept across Billy’s face.  After everything Dudley and the storeowner had done for him, he just got up and ran away.  Like an ungrateful brat.  Why hadn’t he stayed?  Maybe if he had, Dudley would have…

_No_.  _He would only be in danger.  If I’m around him, the bullies might go after him.  Not to mention Cap’s villains.  He’s way too nice.  He doesn’t deserve that._

A sudden sneeze gripped Billy, forcing him to stop abruptly.  The downtrodden boy stopped, sniffled, and wiped his hand on his sleeve.  Another sneeze shook his small frame, but he quickly regained his composure.  He took another sip of his drink before a voice from behind him startled him.

“Hey, look!  It’s that brat again!”  Billy spun on his heels and came face-to-face with the group of teens from earlier.  Clad in thick winter clothing, the malicious trio appeared much more imposing than they had earlier. 

“Well, isn’t this nice,” one of them drawled venomously.  “We were hoping to see you again.  Maybe get to…know you better.”  Throwing his empty beer can to the ground, the teen produced a small butterfly knife and flourished it. 

Billy was gone in a heartbeat.

A familiar chorus of taunts and yelling followed him as he fled.  He knew from personal experience that the teens got violent when they were drunk.  Which was most of the time.

“Your grandpa can’t save you now, you little shit!” a voice behind him jeered

Rounding a corner, the scared boy found a nearby alley.  He swerved to the right, ducked behind a dumpster, and pressed his back against the brick wall.  The teens stopped a short distance away, unable to locate their innocent prey

“Geez, are we really doing this?” the female member of the trio asked.  “I mean, picking on the kid is fun and all, but we could actually get in trouble if we…ya know…”

“No!” the group’s drunken leader retorted.  “That snot-nosed kid has gotten us in enough trouble!  And besides… _hiccup_ …it’s not like anyone will notice.” 

“I agree with the boss,” the third piped up.  “This could be fun.”

Billy remained completely still as the trio continued to debate.  The only sound he could hear was that of his pounding heart which echoed in his ears.  Exhausted and unarmed, the young hero had no appetite for a confrontation.  Curling up more, he prayed silently that the trio would give up.  Maybe if he stayed quiet, the thugs would lose interest…

And then he sneezed.

Terrified, Billy covered his mouth, but he was too late.

“Hey, I think I heard him… _hic_...over there!” the leader yelled.  The cornered child could hear his aggressors’ shouting grow louder as they drew near.  Terrified of his impending fate, Billy stood up.  There was no way he’d be able to get away.  He had no choice.

**Shazam!**

The rowdy teens burst into the alley to find Captain Marvel glaring down at them, his arms crossed menacingly.  The magical hero floated up and put on the most disapproving face he could muster. 

“I saw a kid run past here looking like he had seen a ghost,” he said.  “Were you bothering him?”

The three hooligans shook their heads dumbly, awed by the mystical guardian towering over them.

“If I see you causing trouble around here again, we’re going to have a talk,” he continued, false ferocity in his tone.  Before he could continue the group was gone, leaving him alone in the frozen alley. 

Captain Marvel sighed, thankful that the group hadn’t called his bluff.  No matter how much they tormented him, Billy didn’t want to see them get hurt.  And he would never lay a finger on them.  Or, at least, he hoped it would never come to that…

_Well, it looks like it’s getting close to lunchtime.  Maybe I could change back and go down Binder Street.  I’d bet there’re a lot of folks who could use my help…wait, the meeting’s today!  Oh golly, I’m going to be late!  I’d better get going!_

Taking to the sky, Captain Marvel quickly flew to the nearest zeta tube.  After his hectic morning, doing something unexciting seemed like a pleasant reprieve.

_Later…_

Captain Marvel wanted nothing more than to do something exciting.  When he had originally joined the Justice League, he had been under the impression that his job would be fast-paced and awesome.  Flying around, beating up bad guys, and saving the world, just like Superman.  He had not expected the all-day meetings, mission briefings, reports, and mandatory monitor duty.

Now, stuck in a League strategy session, the inwardly young hero longed for some action.  Batman had been rambling on for what felt like hours, explaining the political situation in Rhelasia and discussing the new shipments of biotechnology that needed safeguarding.  Several villains had recently escaped captivity, and the League suspected that they would attempt to ambush the convoy.  Most of the League seemed worried about the situation; unlike most briefings, there was very little conversation between heroes. 

As the dark vigilante continued his lengthy explanation, Captain Marvel’s thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Dudley; his behavior at the store still stung in the back of his mind.  A year ago, if someone had offered to help him and give him food, he would have accepted without hesitation.  Billy wondered when he had grown so distrusting.  The homeless hero silently resolved to go find Dudley after the meeting and apologize.  It was the least he could do for…

“Captain?” Batman asked, derailing his train of thought.  Captain Marvel snapped to attention to find the whole Justice League staring at him, sporting confused looks.  Heat rose to his cheeks as he shifted nervously in his chair. 

“Uh, sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I was, um, distracted.  What were you saying?”  Batman’s eyes narrowed into a chilling glare, causing the crimson hero to shrink into his seat. 

“I was saying that you’re going to help escort the biotechnology shipment headed for Star City,” he said

“Sure,” Captain Marvel affirmed.  “No problem.”

After a tense moment, the Dark Knight returned to his plan, and the meeting proceeded without further incident.  An hour later, the discussion finally concluded, and the heroes dispersed.  Happy to be free of the mind-numbing assembly, Captain Marvel jumped up and dashed for the exit.  Before he could leave, a rough hand stopped him.  He turned to find Batman staring at him with an emotionless expression.

“Hey Batman,” Captain Marvel greeted in an attempt to mask his discomfort.  “How’re you doing?”

“Is everything alright, Captain?” queried Batman, brushing off his comrade’s question. 

“Yeah!” the crimson hero answered, trying his best to maintain his optimistic demeanor.  “I just…have somewhere to be.  See you later!” 

Captain Marvel rushed out of the meeting room, leaving a befuddled Batman behind him.  The Gotham vigilante was about to follow the magical hero out when a hand on his shoulder stopped.  Turning, he found Black Canary staring at him.  The blonde heroine glanced towards the hallway and furrowed her brow. 

“I know I’m not the only one who thinks that Captain Marvel has been acting…odd…lately,” she said calmly.

“He seems to be doing fine in missions,” Batman answered stoically.

“That’s not what I mean, Bruce,” Black Canary pushed, unfazed by her companion’s demeanor.  “I think something’s wrong with him.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s just dealing with some issues in his civilian life?” Batman offered, flustered by Dinah’s persistence.  “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I tried,” Dinah retorted.  “He ran away before I could get any answers.”

That, admittedly, struck Bruce as strange.  Captain Marvel was one of the most outgoing League members.  When walking the Watchtower, he often found himself caught in an engaging discussion with the crimson-clad champion.  He struck Bruce as energetic and somewhat naïve, but not secretive or dishonest.

“Who is he?” Dinah questioned, a determined look in her eyes.

“Hmm?” Batman replied tersely.

“You heard me, Bruce,” she said impatiently.  “I know you keep track of the civilian identities of every member of the League.  I’m beginning to worry that he’s going through a rough time.  I just want to talk to him.”  Batman hesitated. 

“I don’t know,” he offered finally.  Black Canary’s eyes widened, before narrowing incredulously.

“You’re telling me that out of the entire Justice League, he’s the only person whose identity you don’t know?” she asked, a mix of anger and disbelief in her tone.  “Doesn’t that worry you?”  Again, Batman paused.

“I have some business to take care of,” the Dark Knight said.  With a curt nod, he strode out of the room, his cape trailing behind him.

He needed to get back to the Batcave.  Black Canary was right.  He needed to know the Captain Marvel’s civilian identity.


	6. Lost

Lost

Dudley sighed as he packed his well-worn tool set into his small yellow toolbox.  His once shiny tools were riddled with scratches and smudges, battle-scars from years of mishaps and heavy use.  With a sigh, the aging man stood and brushed the dust off his tank top.  He lifted his toolbox and sauntered out of the back of the store.  Dudley stopped in front of the counter, where his friend was preoccupied with stocking a shelf full of candy bars.  After waiting several seconds, the young man completed his task and looked up at him.

The kind man motioned to the back of the store.

“It’s fixed…for now.  You should get a professional out here.  I can only do so much, and this place is falling apart.”

“No one’s willing to come out because of the storm,” the storeowner replied, his eyes darting to the frosted storefront.

“You should be getting home,” Dudley said calmly, eyeing the frosted storefront.  From what he could tell, the snow would pick up in an hour or so.  The storeowner merely smirked before pushing a stack of bills into his friend’s hand. 

Dudley tried to protest, but was quickly cut off by the generous young man.  “No, keep it,” he insisted.  “After everything you’ve done, it’s the least I can do.”

The two stood silently for a few moments before a curious expression crossed the shop owner’s features.  He leaned on the counter and stared Dudley in the eye.

“What ever happened to the kid you brought in here?  Billy, wasn’t it?”

The handyman gained a pensive look as he picked up his tools.

“I don’t know.  After the kid ran off, I tried to find him, but couldn’t.  I haven’t seen him since.”

“Do ya think something happened to him?” the storeowner questioned.  “I mean, with the storm and those rowdy teens, he could be…”

A withering look from Dudley shut his young friend up.  Deep down, though, he was thinking the same thing.  He hadn’t seen the kid in days.  Billy’s mysterious disappearance had been worrying him since he had run off.  While the shy kid seemed to be resourceful and nimble, Dudley could tell his situation was less than ideal.  His skinny frame, nervous demeanor, and haggard appearance only served to confirm Dudley’s fears.  With the seeming omnipresence of the local gang and the encroaching winter, he worried what fate had befallen the timid little boy…

Reprimanding himself silently, Dudley forced his dark thoughts away.  He pocketed his payment and lifted his toolbox off the counter. 

“Well, I’m off,” he stated, his even tone belying his concern.

“Maybe you should go look for him before the storm gets worse,” his friend offered.  “If the kid is out in the snow somewhere, you need to find him.  It’s not safe out in the storm.”  Dudley sighed.

“I don’t think that looking for him’ll do any good,” he replied.

Exchanging nods with the store owner, he meandered out of the store.  Emerging into the blustering snowfall, he sighed and shielded his eyes.  This was not going to be a pleasant walk home.

_Elsewhere…_

Captain Marvel had mixed feelings about the impenetrable storm clinging to Fawcett City.  On one hand, he had always loved snow.  Making snowmen and watching the snow fall sat among Billy’s favorite activities.  However, the stifling white veil reduced his visibility from above, making it much more difficult to patrol the city.  Coupled with the stabbing cold which stole into his abode, he couldn’t deny that the winter season posed its own unique challenges.

The storm was growing progressively worse as he approached the outskirts of the city, forcing him to gain altitude.  After searching for several minutes, he spotted a deserted alley a few blocks from his home.  Descending rapidly to avoid detection, the crimson hero landed gracefully and surveyed the area.  Thankfully, no one seemed to be around, and he doubted anyone had noticed him on the way down.

Taking a deep, misty breath, the hero hesitated.  He wished he could simply fly the rest of the way to his home and transform back in his room, but knew that he couldn’t.  That would run the risk of someone discovering him, or at least engendering suspicion in some of the neighbors.  No, he would have to walk. 

_Well, here goes nothing…_

**Shazam!**

Fatigue, chills, and a dully throbbing headache immediately washed over the meek boy, causing him to lean against a brick wall for support.  Since Billy had met Dudley a few days ago, his physical condition had rapidly deteriorated; the morning after the meeting he had awoken to a ragged cough and a stuffy nose.  His fatigue intensified, and the freezing cold weather seemed to grow harsher each day. 

There was no way he could deny it.  He was sick.

Much to the ailing boy’s displeasure, crime and chaos had not receded with the encroaching weather.  As the inclement weather grew, so did the number of emergencies that required Captain Marvel’s attention.  Cars stuck in snow drifts, people lost in the storm, and a slew of other dangers had the crimson hero running ragged.  In the rush, his flu had only grown worse. 

Coughing, the chilled hero forced himself away from the wall and out of the alley.  The wind nipped his ears as he trudged through the snow, hellbent on reaching his poorly insulated abode.

_Oh man.  I feel awful.  The last I felt this bad was when Wotan ambushed me in Star City._

Captain Marvel’s magic had proven to be both a blessing and a curse.  In his other form, the young hero was entirely unaffected by his ailment.  Captain Marvel felt as chipper as ever juggling the dire situations riddling Fawcett.  This, however, did not hold true for young Billy, whose meek body was ill-equipped to fight off the bug.

_I bet the nice man at the store has something to make me feel better.  I wish I had some money._

Billy stopped as a wave of nausea hit him.  The sick boy leaned against the window of a clothing store and was silently thankful that he had nothing in his stomach to lose.  The queasiness subsided quickly, and he pressed on. 

_I really need to get home before the storm gets worse._

Rounding a corner, Billy sunk into the knee-deep snow which blanketed the sidewalk and street.  The whole block seemed deserted, ruled by the roar of the storm.  Billy pressed on with grim resolve, oblivious to all but his singular goal.  Suddenly, another wave of fatigue and dizziness washed over him.  Instinctively, Billy reached out to grasp the door handle of a closed corner diner. 

But his hand found only frigid air.

The weary boy stumbled forward, trying frantically to find a way to steady himself.  The cold clawed at his neck and rushed through his lungs, drowning out his waning strength.  Delirious and panicked, Billy took several staggering steps forward and inadvertently stepped off the curve into the snowy gutter.  His footing failed, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

_Elsewhere…_

Alfred sat in the reading room of Wayne Manor silently engrossed in an enticing legal thriller.  The loyal butler leaned back in his chair and turned the page, thoroughly enjoying the lack of catastrophe and mayhem which often accompanied his duties.  Lately, there had been no attacks on the manor, no devious plots which threatened Gotham and its citizens.  Aside from a small drop in the value of Waynetech stock, life had been remarkably mundane.

A _ding_ rang out from the kitchen, tearing his attention from his book.  Replacing his bookmark, he stood and strode into the kitchen.  He donned a pair of mittens before opening the oven and removing a pan containing two perfectly roasted ducks, each surrounded by cooked seasonable vegetables.  The dutiful butler placed the platter on the counter before opening the pot that was simmering on the stove.  With precision cultivated from years of cooking, he gently ladled the l’orange sauce onto the dish.  Alfred stepped back and admired his handiwork, allowing himself a small smile. 

“Master Bruce.” he called.  “Dinner is ready.”  No answer.

“Master Bruce?”  Again, nothing.

Alfred sighed.  He already knew where his employer would be.

_Shortly…_

“Dinner is getting cold, Master Bruce,” Alfred explained as he stood in the Batcave, behind Bruce, who was sitting at the central computer.  Bruce Wayne’s attention remained fixated on the screen in front of him, which prominently displayed a paused video feed.  He was dressed in his Batsuit, his cowl placed beside him on the desk.

“Unless the situation is urgent, I implore you to accompany me upstairs,” the mild-mannered gentleman pressed.  “Sitting here in the dark is not a healthy practice.  You need to eat, sleep, and allow Gotham to enjoy this momentary peace.”

“There’s a problem, Alfred,” Bruce explained.

“Sir?” the butler questioned, unnerved by his employer’s tone.

Without another word, Bruce pressed a key, and the video feed played.  Alfred watched as a crimson hero touched down in a snow-covered alley, and looked around. 

“Captain Marvel, is it?” Alfred inquired, his tone measured. 

“Yes,” Bruce answered him.  “One of the League’s most powerful members.”

Alfred continued to watch as the mystical champion shouted and a bolt of lightning struck him.  The smoke cleared, leaving a meek little boy in the hero’s place.

Alfred’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and his composure melted away.  Straightening his bowtie, he quickly regained his level-headed demeanor. 

“He does seem young to be a member of the League,” Alfred commented stoically.  “I assume you have discerned his identity.”

“William Batson,” Bruce replied.  “Nine years old.  Son of C.C. and Marilyn Batson, deceased.”

“I would have expected you to have gathered more information at this juncture,” the butler stated stoically.  He managed to maintain his decorum as his employer shot him a frustrated look.

“The latest records I could locate were from Child Protective Services from three years ago,” the billionaire explained.  “With the storm in Fawcett City, I’ve been unable to track him.  And with League communications down, due to the storm, I can’t contact him.  I’m unsure whether or not I should confront him, or the other members of the League.”  Bruce swiveled in his chair and stared at his long-time friend.

Alfred had seen that look hundreds of times over the decades at Wayne Manor.  A look which he had been faced innumerable times during Master Bruce’s youth.  He kept his composure, as he always did.

Batman wanted his opinion.

“I would proceed with caution, Master Bruce,” the wise butler offered.  “Though the boy may seem to lack adequate supervision, I would suspect he has established a life in Fawcett.  To challenge his independence openly would engender defiance in the boy.  With regards to the rest of the League, I wouldn’t divulge his secret until you’ve spoken to William.  He seems to have performed admirably thus far, despite his age.  You needn’t cause any turmoil in the League.  Not yet.”

Bruce turned around and watched again as Captain Marvel transformed into his meek civilian form.  Alfred could see his employer’s mind working as he sat, fixated on the blurry video feed.  Suddenly, Bruce stood and donned his cowl.

“I’m going to Fawcett City,” Batman said.

“Indeed,” Alfred replied.  “But first, you’re coming up and eating your dinner.”


	7. Found

Found

Endless night presided over the shifting sands of the Khandaq desert.  The moon surveyed the barren dunes with silent curiosity, illuminating the desolate wasteland with light which had shone through the passage of millennia. 

A red flash lit up the sleepy desert and promptly dispersed. 

“ _Finally!_ We’re here.  That took _forever_!”

A caped figure emerged from behind a sand dune, flanked by an obnoxious boy and a cat.  The silent man surveyed the wasteland with grim disinterest.  Behind him, his youthful companion crossed his arms impatiently.

“Come on!” Klarion whined, reiterating his displeasure.  “I want to go blow something up already.  What are you doing?”  Wotan sighed and uttered a few magic words, conjuring a ball of golden light.

“Be quiet boy,” the wizard said to his ally, his patience frayed.  He had been searching the desert for hours with the preteen witch-boy, but had yet to locate any sign of a tomb.  He was beginning to wonder if the information he had received from Lex Luthor was accurate.

“Why are we even here again?” Klarion queried as he kicked a pile of sand disinterestedly.

Wotan floated down to the base of the dune and flourished his hand, causing his mystic lantern to levitate above him.  “We’re looking for the tomb of Teth-Adam.  Luthor wants us to open it.”

“And we’re looking for some old tomb…why?” Klarion queried. 

“Because we need Black Adam for our plans,” Wotan explained.  “Captain Marvel poses a threat to our organization.  We need to eliminate him before we can proceed.”

Clarion shot his companion a mischievous grin and sparked a blood-red flame.  “C’mon!  We could take him.  We can both go toe-to-toe with Nabu, and he’s a lot stronger than Captain Goody-Goody.  We don’t need this guy to help us!”

“Meow,” the cat beside Klarion commented. 

“I know we lost last time, Teekl,” the witch-boy retorted.  “You don’t need to be mean about it.”

“Mreow,” the cat added before licking the sand from between his paws.  Klarion nodded quickly, and the furry creature jumped onto his shoulders.

Mentally, Wotan contemplated whether or not Luthor would care if he transformed Klarion into a turtle.  At least the boy would finally be quiet.  Then he would turn Luthor into a mule.  It would be a fitting fate...

“Mreow,” Teekl interrupted from Klarion’s shoulders. 

Wotan frowned at the small familiar.  “What did he say?”

“He says it’s below us,” Klarion translated.  “I can feel the mystic energy.”

Wotan focused.  He could feel the eldritch wards permeating the air, stifling his powers.  Taking a deep breathe, the magical villain muttered a spell he had learned long ago.  Below him, the sand swirled and roiled before falling away.  The dust cleared, revealing the entrance to an ancient tomb.  Antediluvian pillars stood resolutely, reaching to the ebon sky.  Cryptic script riddled the worn stone.  Even without translating the scrawl, Wotan could tell the characters comprised a magical ward.  Probably Shazam’s handiwork. 

“At least he’s dead now,” Wotan grumbled to himself.  Grasping his magical lantern, the wizard fell into step behind Klarion and Teekl.  With unspoken trepidation, the trio entered the mystic crypt.

The magical villains ventured through the cavernous catacomb, searching for a sign of their sealed prize.  Cobwebs hung from the crumbling hallways, long abandoned by their weavers.  Sandstone statues lined subterranean antechambers, depicting ancient deities and long-lost legends.  Faded murals marked the walls, recounting historic battles and myths.  Periodically, Wotan would stop and examine some of the inscriptions, much to Klarion’s annoyance. 

“You can actually read this stuff?” the witch-boy would ask as he stroked his familiar’s fur. 

“Yes,” Wotan answered in annoyance.  His tolerance for Klarion’s antics was wearing thin.  “I believe we are here.”

“Finally!” Klarion exclaimed, followed by an enthusiastic “meow” from Teekl.

“I recognize this ward,” Wotan stated as he ran his hand over an inscription in the stone wall.  “Nabu cast this.”

“Of course he did,” Klarion answered sarcastically.  “What would he do if he wasn’t getting in our way all the time?  Next time I see him, I’m going to burn him alive!”

Ignoring his companion’s griping, Wotan knelt down and started to translate the inscriptions.  At his touch, the symbols began to glow with a faint blue light.  Smiling, Wotan allowed his hand to run along the wall, lighting up the runic script.  He read the words mentally, trying to understand the composition of the eldritch ward.  Words of power danced through his mind, tempting him to unleash his might upon the faded stone walls.  Wotan resisted the urge to fire a magic attack at the wall; one poorly-placed shot could cause the tomb to cave in.

The magical villain stood and dusted himself off.  “Klarion, we need to…”

Wotan’s instructions were interrupted when a massive ball of crimson flame flew past him and collided with the wall.  With a sound like thunder the stone crumbled, leaving a pile of tan rock and a hole in the wall.  Magical energy rushed from the hole and washed over the trio like a tidal wave before fading abruptly.  Wotan whirled about and glared at Klarion, whose hands were still ablaze. 

“What?” the childish witch asked.  “You were taking too long.”

Wotan opened his mouth to retort, but was silenced when a blast of lightning shot from the gap.  The attack struck Klarion full force, knocking him into a nearby pillar.  A hooded figure emerged, cloaked in an ebon garb accented with gold boots and armlets.  Towering over Wotan, glowing white eyes trained on the young witch lying against the wall.  Teekl hissed at the imposing magic-wielder, his tail erect and his back-fur standing on end. 

“Hey, you!” Klarion yelled, scrambling to his feet.  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”  With an angered cry, the witch-boy summoned an orb of whirling flames and hurled it at his adversary.  The blast hit full force, but did little more than anger his imposing foe.  With a roar, the newcomer surged forward and connected a brutal blow to Klarion’s chin.  With another jolt of electricity, the young sorcerer was out of commission.

Wotan looked up at the hulking magic-wielder, and instinctively readied another spell.  Adam  eyed him disinterestedly.  Lightning burst from the tyrant’s body and carved jagged lines in the tomb walls.  No, he was clearly outmatched.  Releasing the eldritch blast swirling at his fingertips, the sorcerer met the ancient champion’s gaze.

“We didn’t come here to fight you, Adam,” he explained, “We came here for your help.”  The stranger eyed Wotan suspiciously for several moments.  Finally, he spoke. 

“Why did you release me?”

“Lex Luthor sent us to retrieve you from this prison,” Wotan explained.  “You and I have much in common.”

“What would I share with a weakling like you?” Black Adam questioned harshly as he hovered above the stone floor. 

“We both wish for the strong to rule,” answered Wotan.  “And we both seek the destruction of Shazam’s champion.”

Black Adam smirked sadistically.  “Then you may be of use to me.”

_Elsewhere…_

_Geez, the storm’s getting really bad.  I really need to get back before I get lost out here._

Since leaving his friend’s shop a short while ago, Dudley’s luck had taken a turn for the worse.  The storm had picked up suddenly, reducing visibility to near zero and making the roads slick with a fresh coat of gleaming ice.  A new layer of knee-deep snow covered the sidewalk, reducing his speed to a glacial pace.  Snow was piled onto roofs and benches, creating odd shapes.  The white mass clung to him like a leech.  The cold seeped into his bones as he walked, draining his already lingering strength. 

_Geez, I haven’t seen a winter this bad for twenty years.  Last time it got this bad, I was snowed in for a week.  If this clears up, I’m going to go get some extra groceries.  I bet I’m going to be stuck inside for a bit._

As the primal winds howled through the deserted street, Dudley caught sight of his reflection in a frosted storefront.  His grey hair was riddled with specks of ice which shook onto the sides of his jacket with each heavy step.  Light reflected off the iced glass, shining with an ethereal allure.  Dudley tore his attention away from the distraction and pressed onward.  He didn’t have time to dawdle. 

Two blocks later, the wind seemed to die down, leaving a steady fall of dusty snow and a silent street.  Dudley, who had ducked into an alley to catch his breath, adjusted his grip on his toolbox and stepped out into the street once more.  The chilled handyman strode determinedly up the sidewalk, keeping one hand poised at all times in case he slipped.  He passed an abandoned bus stop.  The small sign taunted him with the promise of a way home.  A promise which the storm denied.  With a chuckle, he turned another corner, passed a closed café, and stopped. 

_Is that…?_

Something lay in the street a short distance away, partially covered by a thin layer of fresh snow.  The man’s breath froze in the frigid wind as he approached the object.  Immediately, his worst fears were confirmed. 

“Billy!”

He was at the boy’s side immediately, carefully lifting him out of the snow.

“Billy, wake up,” he pleaded.  “Speak to me, kiddo.”  But the kid didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him at all. 

“C’mon buddy,” Dudley tried again.  No answer.  “Dammit.”

Using the curb to steady himself, Dudley stood again, pressing the small boy into his shoulder.  Billy was very light for a kid his age, a fact which only served to heighten Dudley’s concern.  He adjusted his hold on the boy and sighed. 

_I better get home before both of us freeze out here._

The wind picked up again.

_Later…_

Dudley sat in his living room, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.  His jacket was strewn haphazardly across his coffee table, covering the morning paper and his snow-covered toolbox.  His boots and Billy’s jacket were drying in the laundry room.

Setting his drink down, Dudley got up to check on the boy once more.  He walked over to his room and peered inside.  Billy was curled up in his bed, covered with every spare blanket the panicked man could find.  The sick boy whimpered slightly, shivered, and turned over in his sleep.  After getting him inside, Dudley had gotten him into bed and checked his temperature.  As he feared, the boy was running a high fever.  Dudley’s first instinct was to take him to the hospital.  He dismissed the thought immediately; there was no way to drive there, and it was too far to walk. 

Dudley sighed and closed the door quietly.  He had no choice but to wait out the storm.


	8. Meeting

Meeting

Bruce Wayne could feel the snow filling his boots as he trudged along the frigid sidewalks of suburban Fawcett.  The biting cold and stifling snow-cover was reminiscent of the storms summoned by Mr. Freeze during his plots to ice over Gotham City.  He made a mental note to go on patrol in Gotham after locating Captain Marvel.  He suspected the cold-blooded villain had something to do with the inclement weather gripping the continental United States.  Record low temperatures and massive storms were emerging across the country.  The rise in emergency situations was spreading the League’s numbers thin.  With the sudden and inexplicable failure of the Watchtower’s communications systems, the heroes chose to coordinate using the Batcave’s technology, against Batman’s wishes.  Preoccupied as he was with Captain Marvel’s situation, he was forced to leave the cave in the care of…

“How’s the… _ksh…kshhh…(static)…_ going?” a familiar young voice asked.  Bruce stopped walking and adjusted his earpiece.

“Robin?” he replied in a hushed tone.  “Robin, do you copy?  You’re breaking up.”

“I’m here, Batman,” the pre-teen answered.  “I asked how the search is going.”

“Nothing so far,” the detective responded.  “The snowfall covered any tracks, and the few individuals I’ve questioned either didn’t recognize him or were less than willing to talk to me.  Most of the street cameras you hacked can’t see through the snow-cover.”

“Darn.  Well, try to stay traught,” the young vigilante encouraged, his upbeat attitude warming his tone.  “We’ll find him.  Man, I still can’t believe that one of the most powerful heroes on the League is younger than me.  I mean, he’s just a little kid.”

Bruce raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his protégé’s comment.  “How did you…?”

“I found the footage while snooping through the computer,” Dick answered.  “You really need to improve the security system.  Still, it’ll be nice to have someone in the League to play video games with.”

“No video games until you’re un-grounded,” Bruce retorted firmly, purposely inserting a note of disapproval into his tone.

“What!” his ward replied angrily.  “I’m grounded?! What for?!”

“For snooping through the computer, but we’ll discuss that later,” Bruce explained.  “Have you found any leads with the information I gave you?”

The junior detective gave an audible sigh.  “Nothing yet.  There’s been no recent activity by any of Captain Marvel’s enemies.  And the most recent ice villain activity, aside from the jailbreaks, is a museum robbery by Killer Frost two weeks ago.  While I think they’re behind this weather, I just can’t think of a motive.”

Bruce rounded a corner and sidestepped a snow drift, hell-bent on reaching his only remaining lead.

“Keep looking,” he ordered.  “Widen your search parameters to include any incidents in Metropolis.”

“Master Bruce, Master Richard, if I may interrupt?” Alfred’s voice chimed. 

“Go ahead, Alfred,” Bruce answered, his attention split between the difficult tasks of finding Captain Marvel and coordinating the relief efforts of the rest of the League.

“I just received word from Zatara,” the butler explained dutifully.  “He says that the situation in Chicago has worsened.  And neither the Hawks nor the Flash can reach him through the storm.  He wants to know if there are any other available League members near his location.”

“Contact Green Lantern,” Bruce responded.  “He should be in the vicinity.”

“Certainly, sir,” Alfred affirmed properly.  “Also, the Riddler has been spotted in Gotham.  The GCPD have already arrived on the scene, but I believe the situation might require a more…specialized skillset.”

“Ooh, I’ll take care of it!” volunteered Robin.

Bruce frowned.  “No Robin, I need you…”

The billionaire was rudely interrupted as a series of loud noises burst from his earpiece.  He could faintly hear Alfred’s reprimands echoing in the Batcave.

“Master Richard….Batcave….right now…”  Without warning, the audio feed ceased.  Bruce stood, surrounded by the winter wind and distant sirens.  Finally, his loyal butler addressed him once more.

“I believe I will be performing Master Richard’s duties here in the cave while he is apprehending the Riddler.  And I assume you will have a talk with him later about his irresponsible behavior.”

Bruce grumbled and shook his head, shaking off the granules of snow clinging to his hat.

“He just doesn’t listen.  He always runs into danger without thinking about the potential risks. 

“Funny,” Alfred answered, a rare note of amusement in his voice.  “I often think the same of you.  By the way, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing one of the guest rooms and an extra set of linens in anticipation of the boy’s arrival.”

“You know me too well,” Bruce responded stoically. 

“I always have,” the insightful butler replied.  “You of all people would understand the hardships of being alone at such a young age.  Also, I’ve managed to pinpoint your location.  You should be arriving at the store soon.”

“I’ve arrived.” Bruce announced.  He surveyed the small drug store.  The windows were frosted over, obstructing his view of the shop’s interior.  A faded blue sign hung loosely above the shop, blowing methodically in the wind.  The chilled detective approached the door, only to have it swing open unexpectedly.  A young man emerged, clad in an olive winter jacket and a long scarf.  The shop-owner surveyed Bruce quietly.  Instinctively, the hero slouched slightly and smiled in order to look less imposing.  The jacket-clad man returned the grin and relaxed his posture.

“Sorry, store’s closed,” he said as he turned around and locked the door.  “Storm’s finally cleared up somewhat, and I want to get home.  You should probably do the same.  Don’t want to get caught out here in the snow.”

Bruce’s smile shrunk slightly, and he subconsciously adjusted his grey, wool-lined coat.  Alfred had pressed vehemently for him to wear it, despite his employer’s protestations.  As usual, Alfred had been right.

“I understand,” Bruce said diplomatically.  “Sorry to bother you, but I just had a couple questions.”  The young man’s skeptical glare resurfaced, but he remained reticent.  Taking the silence as a “yes,” the billionaire took a breath of glacial air and continued.

“I’m looking for a boy who lives around here.  His name is William.  He’s a little over four feet tall, black hair and blue eyes.  I’ve been told he wanders around this neighborhood frequently.”

Bruce noticed the man’s gaze narrow, and shift downward slightly.  He knew something.

The shop owner shoved his keys in his pocket and eyed the stranger warily.  “What’s it to you?”

“I’m with Child Protective Services,” Bruce lied.  He watched the store owner mull over his terse explanation, trying to decide whether or not to trust the mysterious stranger.  Bruce maintained his calm, if slightly sympathetic expression; years of training and experience made bluffing remarkably easy.  The wind whipped up, sending a spray of powdery snow flying at the pair.  The frigid wind sent a shiver down the young man’s spine as he shielded his face from the airborne sleet.  Finally, he relented.

“…yeah, I saw him earlier today.  The kid sat in my store to get out of the storm.  When my friend Dudley noticed him, he ran out.  Dudley caught him and brought him back inside.  Kid was pretty banged up.  Dudley helped patch some cuts, and I gave him some hot chocolate.  When we turned our backs on him, he ran off again.  Haven’t seen him since.”

This time, Bruce was unable to hind the frown that crossed his features.  He dared to think what might have happened if the boy had gotten lost in the snow before dismissing the thought.  He was still Captain Marvel, one of the League’s most powerful members.  He could handle a snowstorm.  Couldn’t he?

“Well, I should get going,” Bruce said tersely.

“What took you so long, anyway?” the young man queried accusatorily.  “Why didn’t someone come to help him earlier, instead of letting a kid run around alone in the middle of the winter?”

Bruce stopped cold.  For once, he didn’t have a good answer.  Instead, he turned on his heel and briskly walked away. 

“Master Bruce?” Alfred asked as he rounded a corner.

“Yes Alfred?” the detective answered.

“The situation in Chicago has worsened,” the gentleman explained.

“On my way,” Bruce replied.  “And Alfred?”

“Yes sir?”

“I need you to do some research for me.”

_Elsewhere…_

Lex Luthor often found himself in precarious situations in the course of his business.  Sometimes, he would be dealing with the ever-voracious press.  Other times, he would find himself in the midst of deadly, super-powered killers capable of laying waste to small cities. 

If there was one thing he had learned, it was that a well-written contract couldn’t protect you from everything. 

The Lexcorp warehouse he had “donated” to the villains’ cause was relatively innocuous.  The boxes of textiles (and smuggled weapons) that had once filled the space had been transferred to another location, leaving nothing but the silent steel walls and a group of bored villains. 

In the center of the room sat the large workbench he had provided to Professor Ivo.  The mad scientist was working on his diabolical machine, adjusting and tuning parts with a finesse that surprised Luthor.  Wotan hovered beside him, holding a concentrated beam of magical flame.  Occasionally the Professor would point at a component on the machine and Wotan would apply his mystical welding torch to the spot.  On the far side of the warehouse, Klarion was busy entertaining himself.  The witch-boy continually levitated a ball of string just slightly off the ground.  His familiar batted at the item and _meowed_ contently.  In the middle of the ground sat Black Adam.  The ancient tyrant was seated on a stack of boxes which had once contained the parts for Ivo’s machine.  He examined the khopesh in his hands disinterestedly.  The hook-blade showed signs of age, millennia of erosion deteriorating the edges and fading the ornate inscriptions.  Despite this, the weapon continued to serve its purpose in the despot’s hands.  Luthor sat on a folding chair across from the magical ruler, his bodyguard Mercy nearby. 

“When will the others arrive with the final components?” Ivo asked, turning away from his work momentarily. 

At his companion’s question, Klarion dispelled the yarn and stood up.  “Yeah!  I wanna go…”

“…cause chaos,” Wotan finished.  “We are quite aware of your disposition, boy.”

“You simply _can’t_ cause chaos without me!” a new voice contributed.  “I am the clown prince of it, after all.”  The diabolical assembly turned to find the Joker walking towards them, flanked by Deathstroke. 

“It’s about time you arrived,” Black Adam stated imposingly.

Luthor straightened his tie and approached the new arrivals.  “So, did the raid in Gotham go as planned?”

“No such luck, Luthor,” the Joker answered with a mocking frown.  “Ol’ Nigma showed us up.  All we found was the Boy Blunder and the GCPD. 

“Sounds like fun,” Klarion added.

“Not really,” Joker answered, his trademark grin spreading across his face.  “What’s the point of going to town if you don’t get to kill anyone? 

“So it seems the Riddler has been captured…” Luthor stated, “…let’s proceed with plan B.”


	9. Rude Awakening

Rude Awakening

A thick heat hung in the air of downtown Fawcett city.  Billy pulled at the neck of his shirt in an attempt to cool down somewhat.  It wasn’t excessively hot outside, but the moisture in the air made him feel like he was swimming.  He had come to appreciate the normally moderate weather of Fawcett City.  While the sleepy metropolis had its share of rainstorms and occasional windstorms, it often gifted its residents blue skies, moderate temperatures, and light breezes.  Thus, it was evident that many of Fawcett’s residents, himself included, were not prepared for the sudden spout of humidity that had settled over downtown that evening.

The overheated hero ducked under an awning and stopped in front of a small diner.  He ran one hand through his black, sweat-soaked hair, unsticking several errant strands from his forehead in an attempt to look marginally presentable. Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door and was greeted by a blast of cool air.  He reveled in the cool inside temperature, oblivious to the middle-aged blonde woman staring down at him with an amused look. 

“Well, hello there young man,” she greeted with a smile.  “Is there anything I can help you with?  Maybe something to eat?”  Billy tried to conceal his nerves with a forced smile.

“Uhhh…I don’t really…have any money,” he answered shyly, blue eyes fixed firmly on the floor.  He peered up at the woman and put on the most pleading face he could muster.  “It’s just really hot outside.  And it’s cool in here.”

Much to his surprise, the woman simply smiled and gestured towards a small table.  “Well, I don’t see any problem in letting you get out of the sun for a bit.  It’s not safe to stay out there for too long in this heat.  Please, have a seat.  Take a load off, kiddo.” 

Suddenly self-conscious, a warm blush came to Billy’s cheeks.  “Gee, thanks miss!  His shy behavior amused the restauranteur; she let out a heartening chuckle before turning on her heel and walking through a pair of double-doors in the back.  Now alone, Billy padded over to the booth and sidled into the burgundy seat.  Around him, various patrons chatted enthusiastically around steaming plates of food.  From where he sat, myriad smells made his mouth water.  Enjoying the moment of peace, Billy’s attention drifted outside.  He rested one arm on the table and watched as pedestrians milled about the street, many dressed in black or grey suits on their way to work.  The young hero briefly wondered what type of job he would get when he grew up.  He really wanted to be a reporter; sitting at a desk all day talking about money seemed _so boring._  

Maybe someone in the League would be able to help him when he got older.

Billy’s reminiscing was interrupted when the restaurant owner placed an ice cream sundae in front of him.  His eyes went wide as saucers, leaving the woman in stitches. 

“Wow!” he exclaimed.  “You didn’t need to do this.  I..you…thanks, miss!”

The woman managed to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes and regain her composure.  “It’s no big deal,” she said, handing him a spoon.  “When it gets hot outside, nothing cools me down like ice cream.”

“I haven’t eaten ice cream for a while,” Billy admitted, his expression falling slightly.  “But it looks so good!  I don’t want to ruin it…” 

The store owner was chuckling again.  “Don’t worry about that.  There’s plenty more in the back.  Let me know if you want anything else.”  A nearby group of boys flagged her down, and she left Billy alone again.  The star-struck boy hesitated for an instant before digging his spoon into the dessert and scooping up a big bite of ice cream and hot fudge.  Shoving the bite into his mouth, a contented grin spread across his face.  He proceeded to shovel several bites into his mouth, hardly believing his good fortune.  People were _never_ this nice to him.

A drop of ice cream dripped down his chin, and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve.  No, this day could not get any better.

It was at that moment that the building across the street exploded.

The sound of the detonation caused Billy to drop his spoon.  Screaming filled the diner as patrons and staff fled for the exit, leaving behind belongings and uneaten meals.  Billy frowned.

_Aw, come on!  Why can’t the city be under attack when I don’t have free ice cream?_

Jumping up from the booth, he dashed outside to find civilians running rampant up and down the street.  Surveying the chaos, he quickly located the source of the disturbance.  In the middle of the discord hovered Black Adam, a scornful scowl on his face.  Her lifted his hand and forked lightning shot from his fingers, blasting a group of fleeing innocents.

Billy tensed as he watched the bodies hit the pavement.  He glared daggers at his mystical adversary and took a deep breath.

**Shazam!**

Billy blinked and looked down at his scrawny, ten year old hands. 

_What the…?_

He looked back up at Black Adam.  The ebon-clad tyrant was now staring down at him, hatred burning in his eyes.  Nervousness swelled in Billy’s chest, and he retreated from the floating villain. 

**Shazam!**

Again, nothing.  Billy swallowed a lump in his throat, and decided on a new strategy.  _Run._

The young hero turned on his heels just in time for Black Adam to grab him by his shirt collar.  The villain lifted Billy so their eyes met.

“So _you_ are the champion that defeated me?  A _child?_   I will not suffer such indignity again.  Billy shuddered in his grip, fighting back the tears that played on the edges of his vision.  

**“Shaz…”** he tried again, his chant interrupted by Black Adam’s grip closing around his throat.

“The wizard cannot save you,” the mystical despot chided, his fingers aglow with electricity.  “Nothing can save you now.”

_Thump!_

Billy awoke with a start, his breathing erratic and his eyes wild.  A humid heat still hung around him, his shirt saturated with sweat.  Immediately his vision unfocused, and a dull pain erupted in his head.  The panicked boy tried to sit up, but found something weighing him down. 

_What’s going on?  Where am I?_

Ignoring his body’s protestations, Billy forced himself to get up.  He rolled to the side and fell, landing unceremoniously on a hardwood floor.  Dazed, frightened, and nauseous, he barely registered the sound of footsteps entering the room.  Before he could react, a firm pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and helped him lean against the wall.

“Don’t hurt me!  Please!” he cried, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Calm down, kiddo,” a friendly voice answered.  “You’re safe here.”

Slowly, Billy allowed himself to open his eyes once more.  His vision clearer, he found himself staring at a familiar face.

“Dudley?” he asked nervously before breaking into a coughing fit.  The handyman’s calm expression quickly clouded over as his sick guest hacked and coughed.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to keep a calm appearance for the boy’s sake.  “It’s good to see you’re awake.  You gave me a real scare, kiddo.”

Billy’s face fell.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice raspy and dry. 

Dudley’s expression softened as he helped his guest get shakily to his feet.  “It’s not your fault, Billy.  Just…don’t run off without telling anyone.  You could have gotten hurt.  If I hadn’t found you when I did, you…”

The young hero merely gave a weary nod, saying nothing as Dudley helped him back into bed.

_Later…_

Billy seemed to sink progressively deeper into his pillow as he sat up.  Dudley had cleaned up the blankets Billy strewed about the room in his rude awakening.  Seeing the boy’s discomfort, he promptly went to retrieve a glass of water, some medicine, and another pillow to help him sit up. 

The kid’s appearance still frightened Dudley.  His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were glossy and watery.  He seemed to have awoken from some kind of nightmare, which made Dudley question whether the boy had been laid out in the storm on purpose.  He was sweating bullets, though Dudley couldn’t tell if it was due to nervousness or his fever.

“So this is where you live?” Billy queried as he nursed the glass of water.  He had yet to tour the rest of his apartment.  Dudley had insisted that he stay in bed and rest. 

“Yeah,” his gracious host replied.  “It’s not much, but it’s home.  When you’re feeling a little better, I’d be happy to show you around.”  This drew a weak smile from the boy, which Dudley silently counted as a good sign.

“How did you find me?” Billy questioned, a spark of attentiveness in his glossed-over blue eyes. 

“I was back at my friend’s store,” the polite handyman explained.  “His heater broke again, and I couldn’t just let him sit in a freezer during a storm like this.  On my way home, I found you lying in a pile of snow and brought you back here.  I wanted to take you to the doctor, but the storm was too dangerous to drive in.  What were you doing out in the storm anyway?  It’s dangerous outside in this weather”

He watched Billy squirm for a few moments, clearly unprepared to answer such a question.  After a moment the boy looked up at him, an unspoken plea emanating from his watery gaze. 

“Were the bullies picking on you?” Dudley offered in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the air.  “I’m not mad at you, Billy.  I just want to know what happened.”

The boy opened his mouth, only to break into another bout of coughing that wracked his meager frame.  He took a long drink of water. 

“Yeah…(cough)…I was…um…trying to get back home when those teens found me.  They chased me, and I tripped.”

“Does your head still hurt?” Dudley pressed, trying with his limited medical knowledge to assess his infirm charge’s condition.  If the kid had a concussion, then he would have to risk driving to the hospital.”

“It’s better than before,” Billy said, rubbing his temple with his free hand.  “I’m just…really tired.”  Dudley flashed him a sympathetic smile and took the empty glass from the boy’s hands. 

“Let me get you some more water,” he offered.  Billy gave a weak nod, and the friendly man quickly left for the kitchen.

As he poured another glass of water, Dudley began to wonder if he had made a mistake.  Though his young charge seemed to be awake and alert, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.  He wondered if it would have been better to weather the storm and get Billy more qualified help. 

Finally he returned to Billy’s room.  “Here, I brought you some…”

Dudley quieted down as he noticed the boy sound asleep once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Hello Everyone!  
> I just wanted to apologize for missing my post last week. Law school midterms hit me hard, and I’ve had little time to do anything other than review cases and statutes. Since it’s fall break, I’m going to try and get ahead on my writing so I don’t miss a week again. I hope you’re enjoying it so far, and don’t forget to leave a comment, favorite, and follow!  
> -Lotus


	10. Talking

Talking

Dudley mumbled inaudible profanities as he rummaged through the sparsely stocked shelves above his stove.  His unkempt lick of white hair bobbed into his field of vision, and he quickly brushed it back before pushing aside a bag of chips.  He grabbed hold of a box of soup mix, turned it over, and examined the back.  A frown crossed his features as he tossed the box into a nearby trash can.  The cupboard contained only a box of hot chocolate mix, instant mac and cheese, and a few cans of vegetables.  He had already looked in his fridge and freezer, but had found little more than a few frozen items and some leftovers.  It wasn’t much to last through a store.  The tired man quietly cursed himself for not thinking to grab groceries before the storm hit.  In hindsight, he should have seen the signs of a coming snowstorm.  Now, with the storm cutting off roads and shutting down subways, he was trapped in his poorly stocked apartment.

His attention jumped to his window, which was almost entirely frosted over.  Placing another box on the counter, Dudley strode over to the edge of the room and peered outside.  A blanket of snow drifted past, blotting out the quiet neighborhood.  Swirling ice flew in the wind, pattering against the frosted glass.  The weary gentleman noticed his reflection in the window and scowled.  His hair was splayed wildly, and dark bags hung mockingly under his eyes.  Dudley blinked and fixed his hair once more.  He worried that he might scare Billy if the boy saw him.  Remembering the sick boy in his room, the handyman’s expression became somber.

Dudley thought back to the tumultuous night before.  Rest had been fleeting the prior evening.  Unable to fall asleep on the couch, Dudley had preoccupied himself with making sure that Billy was alright.  The boy had tossed fitfully for most of the evening until finally falling into a peaceful slumber sometime after midnight.  Dudley came in periodically to check on him.  His worry grew progressively throughout the night until his charge quieted down.  Still worried, Dudley found a seat and engrossed himself in a novel until he dozed off

Dudley’s attention snapped back to the present, and he walked over to his coffee table and picked up the television remote.  He clicked a button and a dull hum filled the room.  At once his archaic TV came to life, prominently displaying static.  Dudley changed the channel, but found only more static.  Unable to access the weather channel, he had no way to know when the blizzard would pass.

Grumbling, he walked over to the counter and continued searching for something resembling soup to make for Billy.  Though the store was only a couple miles away, with the severity of the storm, it might as well be on another planet.  Thus, he was consigned to making whatever he could out of the various odds and ends he had on hand.  He hadn’t expected to have company, let alone a sick child to take care of.

In the future, he would keep extra supplies on hand for this kind of situation.

The unprepared handyman noticed an red and white box pressed against the other side of his cabinet.  Gripping a shred of hope, he snatched the chicken soup mix and turned it over.  The date on the box indicated it was still good.  A grin spread across his features as he closed the cabinet and placed the box beside the stove.  His good luck was finally coming through for him. 

Now all that was left to be done was check on Billy.

Dudley strode quietly out of the kitchen and into Billy’s temporary room, fully expecting his ailing guest to be fast asleep.  He was surprised to instead find him standing to the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes wearily.  Billy hadn’t noticed him, and Dudley took a moment to look him over.  His frizzed black hair mirrored Dudley’s disheveled appearance, and his clothes hung loosely on his shoulders.  Dudley noticed that the boy appeared taller than when he last saw him. 

Suddenly, Billy turned to the doorway, and his piercing blue gaze locked onto Dudley.  He immediately stumbled back and shrunk into himself.  Dudley noted that he once again seemed shorter. 

“Hey, Billy,” Dudley greeted soothingly, taking several slow steps towards the boy.  “I just wanted to check on you.  Are you okay?  What’re you doing out of bed?”

A surprised expression crossed Billy’s features as words eluded him.  Finally, he held out the glass Dudley had placed by his bedside, which was now empty.

“I just wanted to get some more ( _cough_ ) water,” he squeaked.  “I’m sorry.”

Concern flared in Dudley’s mind, but he forced a smile.  “It’s no trouble at all.  If you need something don’t hesitate to ask.  How about I get you some soup too?”  His offer elicited a hesitant nod from the sick boy, and he gently took the glass from Billy before returning to the kitchen. 

Billy crawled back into bed and waited patiently.  The sounds of the wind drifted in from outside, drawing his attention to the window.  A thick white veil obstructed his view of outside, and he briefly wondered where Dudley’s apartment was.  He hoped it wasn’t too far from the zeta-tube entrance.  If it was, he would have to walk through the storm to get back to the Watchtower. 

Billy cringed at the thought of the other League members.  He hadn’t checked in for some time, and had most certainly missed his appointed monitor duty.  He could already hear Superman and Wonder Woman reminding him of his responsibilities to the Justice League, a look of disappointment plastered on their faces. 

_“Your first priority must be the League, Captain.  You know our job isn’t something to be taken lightly.  The fate of the world and countless lives rest on our shoulders.  Even something as simple as missing a call for help or breaching security protocol could lead to dire consequences._ ”

Billy imagined that the way the other members of the League lectured him was similar to how his mom or dad would have lectured him.  Not that he knew…

His rapidly darkening thoughts were interrupted as Dudley walked in again, carrying a large steaming bowl and another glass of water.  The kind man walked over to Billy, placed the glass of water on a nightstand, and handed him a spoon.  Billy barely had time to utter a timid, “thank you” before Dudley placed the bowl next to the glass of water.  Immediately, the mouth-watering scent pervaded his senses, and he stuck his spoon in the bowl eagerly.  Dudley’s hand on his wrist stopped him before he could pop the utensil in his mouth.

“Careful, kiddo,” Dudley reminded gently.  “It’s pretty hot.  Give it a minute to cool down.”

Billy’s cheeks grew warm, and his gaze fell to the bowl.

“Sorry,” he said abashedly.

Dudley’s expression clouded before growing soft once more.  “You’re alright.  I bet you’re pretty hungry after everything that’s happened the last few days.”

Truthfully, Billy’s sickness had curbed his appetite, but people rarely offered him food.  He ate whatever he could get.

“Yeah,” he said quietly before blowing, the slurping from the spoon.  His eyes grew large as he stared at the heavenly dish in his lap.  Being careful not to spill anything, Billy scooped up, blew on, and swallowed several gulps in quick succession, much to Dudley’s amusement.  After a few minutes, he held out the empty bowl, which Dudley took and placed on the nightstand beside his glass of water.

“That was really good!” Billy exclaimed.  “Did you make it yourself?”

Dudley chuckled.  “No.  I just boiled the water.  If I had cooked it, well…I don’t want you getting any more sick than you already are.”

Soft, bubbly laughter from Billy, and he giggled until his cachinnation devolved into a coughing fit.  Taking another drink of water, he noticed Dudley staring down at him, worry glowing in his eyes.  Billy forced a smile to dispel his host’s concern.

“You feeling any better?” Dudley queried, grinning to mirror Billy.

Billy took a deep breath and rubbed his belly.  “Yeah, a little.  My head still ( _cough_ ) hurts a bit, but I don’t feel as tired anymore.”

“That’s good,” Dudley replied.  “You should still probably get some more sleep this afternoon.  You need energy to fight this off.”

“Okay,” Billy replied.  He shifted his position and sat up straight, examining his generous host.  He could tell that Dudley was tired; he had seen many Leaguers look the same way after all-night missions or long battles.

“I’m sorry I took your bed,” Billy said quietly, his piercing blue gaze fixed on Dudley.  The man just gave him a sympathetic smile and ruffled his hair. 

“You needed it more than me,” his friendly caretaker responded, seemingly unfazed by the loss of his room.  “Besides, the couch is comfortable too.” 

The discussion between the pair died down, and they both turned to the window.  Outside the endless tempest persisted, enveloping the rest of the neighborhood. 

“I think we’re going to be spending a few days together,” Dudley commented, breaking the stifling silence.  Billy nodded, smiled tiredly, and took another drink of water. 

“So, do you go to school?” Dudley inquired, his demeanor growing slightly more serious.  Billy shrunk back, suddenly self-conscious.  He hadn’t attended any classes since just before joining the League.  He had been skipping class for over a year.  The worried hero fumbled his words until his caretaker rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Dudley reassured.  “I just want to know a little more about you.” 

Billy took a deep, stuttering breath and managed to calm down.  “There are classes at one of the shelters for the ( _cough_ ) kids who can’t go to school.  I used to go there.  They taught me how to read and write.  I also took some math, but I’m not very good at it…”

“Yeah, neither was I,” Dudley replied, eliciting another shy smile from his ailing charge.  “So why did you stop going?”  Billy’s smile fell away. 

“…some of the other kids started picking on me…”

The sick boy’s eyes grew watery, and Dudley quickly changed the subject. 

“What do you like to do for fun?”

Billy thought for a moment.  Most of his free time was taken up with heroics, monitor duty on the Watchtower, and sitting in (extremely boring) briefings.  He doubted that Dudley would believe him if he told the truth…

“I like to read comics sometimes,” he lied.  “And ( _cough_ ) I like to go outside.  It’s fun to go to some of the parks downtown.”

Dudley nodded in understanding and smiled.  “Well, when you’re feeling better and the storm is gone, how about we go down there.  I know this place that makes the best ice cream sundaes in the city.”

“Really?” Billy asked, his bright blue eyes shining like stars.  “I’ve never had ice cream before.”  Dudley simply nodded and looked out the window. 

“But I don’t think we’re going anywhere until this storm clears up.  For now, we’re going to have to stay inside.  If you want, I have some comics from the paper you can look at.”

“That sounds… _yawn_ …great ( _cough_ ),” Billy said.  He laid down and snuggled under the covers. 

“Let me see if I have some medicine for that cough,” Dudley offered.

Billy smiled and nodded.  “And maybe some hot chocolate?”


	11. Set in Motion

Set in Motion

The derelict industrial district outside Fawcett City had been the favored stomping ground for criminals for years.  Once a production and distribution center for Lexcorp, the buildings had been vacated during an economic downturn.  Now, the few disorganized gangs of Fawcett skulked among the disowned premises, having been driven out of town by Captain Marvel’s heroics.  The lowlifes were most often left alone in their spacious hideout; the local police were less than competent, and the gang’s operations were small enough that they didn’t attract the Justice League’s attention. 

Thus, the criminal coalition was ill-prepared when a group of supervillains armed appeared unannounced.  Unsure of what to do, the gang responded violently, leading to a remarkably short skirmish and numerous dead thugs.  Now, left with an empty warehouse, the villainous alliance got to work.

“It kinda feels wrong doing the Big Red Cheese’s work for him,” grumbled Klarion as he moved a dead body to the corner of the warehouse.  “I mean, we coulda just mind-controlled these guys.  And it would have been nice to leave _some_ criminals to mess with this goody-good city.”

“But you _have_ to admit,” the Joker cackled as he flicked a switchblade, “that _was_ fun!”

Klarion grinned as he ignited a pile of corpses, disintegrating the evidence of their battle.  “Yeah, it was.  I’m kinda glad they picked a fight with us.”

“Remind me why we brought them along?” Professor Ivo asked Lex Luthor as he put down a box of tools, opened it, and took out a small PDA.  Without another word, he plugged it into the small console before him and began entering a string of commands.

“The Joker was instrumental in freeing Mr. Freeze from Arkham Asylum,” the shady businessman replied, fixing the collar of his dark grey suit.  “And Klarion assisted in freeing Black Adam.  In exchange, I agreed to allow them to take part in our plan.”

“Still,” Mr. Freeze began as he knelt beside Ivo and picked up a screwdriver, “this alliance has too many members.  The Justice League will take notice.”

“Aw, come on,” the Joker said, knocking on the glass helmet of Freeze’s cryo-suit.  “Why so serious?”  Freeze scowled, and the Joker quickly busied himself with taunting Teekl. 

“Is the device working?” Wotan questioned as he prepared a magic spell beside Luthor.

“Yes,” Freeze answered before closing a panel on Ivo’s console.  “As you’ve seen, the weather altering drones in the atmosphere above the city are operational.  With the union of my cryo-technology, Ivo’s robotics, and Wotan’s magic, we’ve managed to create a device which can alter the weather within a seventy-five mile radius.  They’ve been operating for two weeks, and have not yet been discovered.”

“Freeze managed to set up drones over Metropolis, Gotham, Coast City, Star City, San Francisco, New York, and Fawcett City,” Ivo continued.  “With this central control unit, and the satellite Luthor so graciously donated to our cause, we can control all of them from one location.”

“Okay…” the Joker commented, a curious look replacing his usual sadistic grin.  “I know how much people hate rainy days, but being able to cancel school for a few days just doesn’t really scream ‘evil master plan’ to me.  How about we add some Joker Venom and grenades?  That’d be much more evil!”

“Or make the drones turn people into goats!  Demonic goats!” Klarion suggested with a vile grin.

“What we have planned is far more dangerous,” Wotan retorted.  The wizard stood and uttered several magic words before pointing his spell at the small console.  At once a golden-red beam struck the device, and the small screen began to emanate crimson light.  “By using my and Adam’s magic, we will be able to channel the Living Lightning through the drones.  We can use this console to target and destroy locations all over the continental United States.”

“We will hold several major cities ransom, demanding billions of dollars and the disbandment of the Justice League,” Lex Luthor continued.  “And after we cause millions in property damage, Lexcorp will be there to help repair the damage.  When the people are abandoned by their precious heroes, I will be the one who they turn to.  Not to mention the potential profit from redevelopment and relief projects.”

“That’s…actually pretty evil,” the Joker stated, a blood-red grin stretching across his pale features. 

“Indeed,” Wotan muttered.  “Adam!”  All eyes turned to the magical ruler, who was standing near the back of the warehouse.  Lightning danced around the imposing sovereign as he stood resolutely, eyeing his diabolical colleagues with grim disinterest.  Without a word he strode over to the device and cracked his knuckles. 

Grumbling, he held his hand out and released a massive surge of electricity.  The console glowed and buzzed as mystical energy infused it.  Sparks flew wildly, and Lex Luthor ducked to avoid the deadly energy.  The spell ended just as suddenly as it had begun, and Black Adam stood back.

“Did it work?” Mr. Freeze asked, eyeing the smoking console warily. 

“Let’s find out,” Lex Luthor answered.  “Professor, if you would.  Fire it at downtown Metropolis.”  The short scientist nodded and entered several commands into the mystically charged console.

And nothing happened.

“Um…isn’t something supposed to explode?” Klarion queried.  Suddenly, the tension was cut by a cellphone ringtone.  Luthor fished the ringing device out of his jacket pocket and put it to his ear. 

“This is Lex Luthor…yes…Did anyone get hurt?…please contact emergency services and evacuate the building…yes, thank you, goodbye.”  The devious businessman replaced his phone, turned to his companions, and grinned. 

“The bolt struck one of my buildings and injured many of my employees.  Acceptable losses.  This will certainly held shield me from suspicion.”

He straightened his tie.  “It seems our plan was a success.  Now all we need to do is hack a television satellite.”

_Elsewhere…_

Thick tension filled the Justice League meeting room as the heroes sat around a long table, talking to one another and interacting with several holographic screens.  Suddenly, a door opened, and Superman stepped inside, flanked by Wonder Woman.  At once the other members of the League quieted down and the two newcomers took their seats. 

“These occurrences can’t be natural,” Superman stated tersely, surveying the assembly before him.  Many members voiced their agreement, while others simply nodded in affirmation. 

“Hal, Red Tornado, have either of you been able to determine the cause of this weather?” the Man of Steel asked. 

Green Lantern merely shook his head.  “I’ve tried using my ring to scan for anything unusual, but the storm seems to be interfering with my ring.  It isn’t natural, that’s for sure.”

“Scans from the Watchtower have yielded similar results,” Red Tornado added.  “I am unable to determine the cause of the inclement weather.”

“Well, while we sit around up here, people are getting hurt,” Green Arrow said impatiently.  The viridian arch pounded the table angrily, drawing several startled glances from his fellow heroes.  “We need to get down there and help make sure civilians are safe!”

“I agree, Ollie,” Black Canary said, her voice calm and measured.  “But we need to find the source of the danger.” 

“We’ll probably find what we’re looking for inside each of the storms,” the Flash added.

“Then we’ll split into teams,” Superman stated.  “Hawkman, Green Lantern and I will…”

“Have you seen the news?” a voice from behind him asked.  The Man of Steel turned to find Batman in the doorway, an unpleasant scowl hanging below his cowl. 

“Nice of you to show up, Bruce,” Superman greeted.  Ignoring the Kryptonian’s slight, the Dark Knight summoned up a holographic screen.  A news channel appeared onscreen, displaying a burning skyscraper and the words **Lexcom Tower Struck By Lightning!  Hundreds Injured** _._

“There was no lightning overhead when the bolt struck,” Batman stated asserted.  “This was an attack.”

“Who would do this?” Wonder Woman asked.

“I don’t know,” Batman answered.

“Well this is great!” Plastic Man exclaimed.  “Now we have a mysterious bad guy who can summon lightning from the sky _and_ Captain Marvel’s missing.”

“He has missed his last several assigned shifts as monitor on the Watchtower,” Red Tornado explained.  “And I have been unsuccessful in attempting to contact him.”

“He’s not missing,” Black Canary commented.  “Batman knows where he is.  He just won’t tell us.”

“What!” Superman yelled.  Before Batman could react the alien hero grabbed him.  Their eyes met, and the Dark Knight could feel the rage burning in his comrade.  “You knew and didn’t tell us?”

“I don’t know where he is,” the caped crusader answered, his tone monotonous despite the outraged alien breathing down his neck. 

“We’re in the middle of a crisis, Bruce!” the Man of Steel seethed.  “Captain Marvel is one of the League’s heaviest hitters.  We need him.  If you know what happened to him, you need to tell us.  The League has to come first.  Where is he?”

Batman’s expression didn’t change.

“Hopefully, somewhere safe.”

_Elsewhere…_

Billy sat on the couch with a blanket draped over his shoulders, nursing a cup of instant mac and cheese.  The young hero felt better than he had the previous day.  His fever had gone down slightly, and he had managed to stomach a light breakfast.  Still somewhat tired, Billy made his way to the couch with Dudley, and the pair watched television and played cards until around noon.  Afterwards, Dudley quickly made some mac and cheese (the closest thing to soup he had left) before announcing that he needed to get something and would be right back.  The kind man returned carrying a bundle of clothes. 

“Here,” Dudley said, placing his burden on the coffee table.  “After you finish that, you should take a shower.  It’ll make you feel better.

“Sure!” Billy said, giving his caretaker a bright smile.  “You got me new clothes?”

“My neighbor has a grandson about your age,” Dudley answered.  “She said you can borrow these for now.”

“She sounds really nice.” Billy chimed.

Dudley couldn’t stifle a grin.  “She is.  I’ve known her since I moved in here.”

“How long ago is that?” Billy questioned before gulping down another spoonful of cheesy macaroni.

“Twelve years,” Dudley replied.  “I guess I’m pretty old, huh?”

After a moment of shared mirth, Billy got up from the couch, picked up his new clothes, and walked to the bathroom.  He came out half an hour later, clad in an olive turtleneck and jeans and feeling cleaner than he had ever felt before.  Tugging on his collar, Billy padded into the common room to find Dudley staring intently at the television, a look of distress on his face.  Suppressing the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, Billy willed himself to look at the television.  He was greeted by an image of a burning building and an unsettled newswoman frantically describing emergency efforts. 

A single word clawed its way up Billy’s throat but he kept his silence.  He couldn’t risk his identity. 

Before he could say anything, the news station disappeared, replaced by the buzz of static. 

“What the…” Dudley muttered.

Suddenly, a short, well-dressed man appeared onscreen.  Billy recognized him immediately.

_Professor Ivo?_

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” the mad scientist greeted, his voice cordial yet chilling.  “Welcome to the beginning of the end.”


	12. Catastrophe

 

Catastrophe

_Who is this guy?_

Dudley stared, enthralled by the small, malevolent man on his television screen.  The nattily dressed psychopath grinned, seemingly engaged by the countless scared faces watching the broadcast.

“In a few hours, most of you will likely be dead,” the villain said, sending a shudder up Dudley’s spine.  The handyman looked back to find Billy fixated on the screen.  The boy tugged nervously on his collar as he stared at the enigmatic evildoer.  A strange, gritted look crossed the boy’s features, and he stepped forward subconsciously.  Dudley wondered if Billy recognized him.

 “Now that I have your undivided attention,” the scientist stated menacingly, “allow me to dispel any illusions you may have regarding your safety or security.  At this juncture, I am in control of drones above several U.S. cities.  Each one is capable of leveling anything within a significant radius of the device.  I will activate them in 24 hours unless the United States government submits to my demand for $1,000,000,000 and an order disbanding the Justice League. 

The scientist’s grin widened. 

“Time’s running out.”

The devious villain vanished from the screen, and the broadcast returned to a shocked newscaster.  The woman adjusted her grey suit and stumbled to find words, but only succeeded in mouthing a few incomprehensible phrases.  The broadcast cut away, and static overtook the channel. 

Taking a breath to calm his nerves, Dudley clicked a button on his remote, shutting off his television set.  The inwardly panicked man stood up and turned to Billy, whose gaze was still fixated on the black screen.

“Billy?”

The boy visibly snapped back to reality, and the determined glint faded from his clouded blue eyes.  He looked up and forced a worried smile. 

“Yeah?” he replied, thinly veiled concern in his tone. 

Dudley stopped for a moment and pondered what to say.  He didn’t want to scare the kid. 

After a few moments of deliberation, he settled for, “how do the clothes fit you?  Anything too tight?”

Billy’s smile widened, and he shook his head emphatically.  “No, everything’s great.  Your friend is really nice.  I’d like to meet her to say thanks!”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” Dudley said calmly.  The gentleman turned his attention to the window, surveying the weather.  Contrary to his hopes, the storm had yet to clear; the roads would still be too dangerous to navigate. 

No, all he could do was wait and hope the madman didn’t decimate Fawcett City. 

Dudley fished out a deck of cards from a drawer, turned to Billy, and forced another smile.

“Hey, kid, anyone ever teach you how to play rummy?”

_Elsewhere…_

Ivo had made it extremely clear that his threats were not to be taken lightly.  Mere minutes after the madman hacked the television broadcast, a massive bolt of electricity struck Gotham, causing the collapse of several skyscrapers and the destruction of a Waynetech facility.  In short succession, several other cities suffered similar attacks, resulting in widespread panic and devastation.  The Watchtower was in a state of panic.  Leaguers milled about frenetically, interacting with monitors and flipping frantically through news channels on the TV.  Amidst the chaos, Batman strode solemnly through the halls, directing heroes to different assignments and coordinating with local authorities in the impacted cities.

“Bruce,” the Flash greeted as he zoomed up to the caped crusader.  The dark detective turned to address his limber companion, who was much more agitated than usual. 

“Barry,” Batman replied, his expression unreadable.  “Any news from Central City?”

“Nothing,” Flash replied with a nod.  “As far as we can tell, there aren’t any drones over Central.  But I just got word from Hal.  Apparently there was another bolt in downtown New York.  He and Hawkman are already there, helping the local authorities to evacuate civilians.  He says they need more help, so I’m going to go lend a hand.  Any word from Clark?

“Superman is busy helping to mitigate damage in Metropolis,” Batman stated flatly.  “The situation there is largely under control, but there are still people trapped in the debris.”

“Have you talked to the government?” Flash pried.

“They contacted us shortly after the broadcast,” Bruce responded.  “They prepared the ransom, but it won’t come to that.”

“And Captain Marvel?” Barry asked,

Bruce simply scowled at his question, prompting the speedster to make himself scarce.  Now in a worse mood, the Dark Knight strode towards the zeta tubes.  Just as he approached the massive devices, a familiar voice rang out from his communicator.

“Ya think you could lend a hand down here?” Robin queried, his lighthearted voice belying lingering concern. 

“What’s the situation?” Batman pressed.  The attack on Gotham had occurred just after his arrival on the Watchtower, much to his dismay.  The detective silently cursed himself for not foreseeing the danger.

“The building was abandoned.  It looks like no one got hurt.  But a bunch of goons are trying to rob the Gotham National Bank.  The collateral damage to the building disabled most of the security measures.  Commissioner Gordon already dispatched a few cops, but they aren’t going to be much help.”

“Anyone dangerous?” Batman questioned, mulling over a plan of action mentally.

“I saw Cobblepot with the goons.  He’s definitely behind this.”

Batman cringed.  _The Penguin.  Robbing a bank during a crisis is exactly the type of scheme a lowlife thug like him would find appealing._

“I’ll be right there,” the caped crusader stated.  Taking his hand off the communicator, he entered the zeta tube and disappeared in a flash of light.

_Later…_

The fight didn’t last long.  Disorganized and fearful, the Gotham goons broke ranks upon being ambushed by the dynamic duo.  Though heavily armed, the thugs were only hired guns, meant to quickly replace the many seasoned men the Penguin had lost in his last unsuccessful raid.  The ragtag crew of deviants was easily dispatched by Gotham’s defenders, leaving Cobblepot alone with the highly skilled crime-fighters.  While the villain put up more of a fight than the mercenaries, he too was quickly incapacitated.  After rounding up Penguin’s incapacitated crew and loading them into a police van, the two heroes were left alone with Commissioner Gordon. 

“You know, Batman, repairing places like this isn’t easy,” the commissioner stated, gesturing to several holes in the wall that had resulted from the fight. 

“You know, Commissioner, beating up all the bad guys for you isn’t easy,” Robin replied, a combination of mischief, waggishness, and frustration playing across his features.  Batman shot a quick glare at his sidekick to shut him up before returning his attention to the police chief. 

“Any reports of supervillain activity elsewhere in Gotham?” the brooding detective queried.

“Nothing,” Gordon answered, eyeing Robin with irritation and disinterest.  “I don’t think anyone else is going to cause trouble.  Most of the dangerous rogues are back in Arkham.  Poison Ivy and Bane are still on the loose, but they haven’t been seen in quite a while.”

“What about the Joker?” Batman asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Commissioner Gordon removed his hat and brushed back his messy, grey hair.  “He’s still on the loose.  Harley’s still in Arkham, though.”

“He might try to break her out, too,” Batman commented.  “I would send extra men there until the crisis is averted.  We can’t afford to let any other convicts out.”

“I don’t have enough officers,” Gordon answered, his tone tensing slightly.  “With the panic downtown, every man I can spare is out running crowd control.  I could really use your help.”

Batman opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted as a hurried voice erupted in his communicator.

“Bats!” Flash greeted, his voice just below a yell.  At once the speedster began rambling at a breakneck pace, his words blending together in an endless string of sound. 

“Slow down,” Batman ordered.  “What happened?”

“We have a problem,” the scarlet speedster stated.  “Several bolts just hit Fawcett City.”

_Elsewhere…_

_BOOM!  CRASH!_

Dudley’s heart raced as the aging man gripped a table for dear life as the building shook precariously.  He looked up to find Billy sprawled across the floor, staring up at the ceiling with wide, frightened eyes.  Forcing back the urge to bolt out his front door, Dudley stood and helped his ailing charge to his feet.  The boy muttered a meager “thank you” before turning to the door. 

“What _was_ that?”

“I don’t know,” Dudley answered apprehensively.  Motioning for the boy to stay put, he approached his front door and peered outside.

He was greeted by bright red flames, burning ravenously in what remained of his apartment building.  Broken glass and debris littered the hall, and several frightened residents milled about, hell-bent on escaping the sudden danger.  Now thoroughly terrified, Dudley jumped back inside and grabbed Billy’s hand. 

“C’mon,” he said frantically.  “We need to get out of here.”  Before Billy could respond, he yanked the boy out his front door and towards the stairwell.  Dudley ducked and weaved between debris and disgruntled neighbors, adrenaline overpowering his exhaustion and fear.  Just as he reached the stairwell, a voice caught his attention.

“Dudley!  Help!  I’m stuck!”

The handyman turned to find a young woman pinned under a small pile of what had once been the ceiling.

_I can’t just leave her here._

Dudley let go of Billy’s hand and knelt down so their eyes met.  Dudley stared at his charge, awed by the boy’s seeming calm through the storm. 

“Billy, listen to me carefully.  I need you to get out of the building and get as far away from here as possible.  Try to find a phone and call 911.  Tell them that we’re at the corner of Binder Avenue and Central.  Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

The boy nodded meekly before turning and dashing down the stairs.  Mentally quashing his worry, Dudley turned to the young woman, who was struggling with a large beam covered in debris.  Dudley immediately got to work removing pieces of debris in an attempt to free her.  As he worked, the fires surrounding them seemed to draw closer. 

“Dudley, I think it’s coming down!” the young woman screamed.  “We need to get out of here!”

“We’ll be fine,” Dudley replied in a futile attempt to dispel the tension.  As if accepting Dudley’s challenge, the crumbling structure dropped a piece of the ceiling just a few feet from the duo.  The young woman screamed as Dudley redoubled his efforts.  An inexplicable second wind gripped Dudley, and he managed to move aside the last of the debris.  The structure rumbled once more as Dudley helped his neighbor to her feet. 

“Come on!” he yelled.  “Let’s get out of here!” 

Smoke swirled around them, drowning out precious air.  Dudley looked around frantically, but found no safe way through the ravenous flames. 

“No!  Please!” the woman cried.  “I’m too young to die!”

Dudley stepped back as the fire licked at his boots.

“I’m not,” he replied, “but I still don’t want to.”

As the blaze drew closer, the pair resigned themselves to their infernal end.  Just as the inferno closed in, Dudley felt a firm hand grab him.  Before he could register the newcomer, he and the young woman were high in the air, floating above the burning danger.  The petrified gentleman looked up to find Captain Marvel holding him, a look of calm determination on his features.


	13. Storm

Storm

Dudley’s heart leapt out of his throat as he soared through a billowing plume of smoke.  Captain Marvel kept a firm grip on his two frightened passengers as he searched for a safe place to land.  Overcome by recent events, the young woman in the hero’s arms began to scream and flail.  Captain Marvel merely tightened his grip and reassured her that the situation was under control.  After a minute of panic, he managed to placate her, and her terror turned to admiration. 

“Oh, thank you for saving me,” she said with a longing smile.  The crimson hero’s cheeks grew red, and he managed a shy “it’s no big deal.”  The woman then turned to Dudley, and her expression grew serious. 

“Hey, Dudley, thank for…you know…coming back for me.  I would have been a goner if you hadn’t come back.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you there,” Dudley replied with a nod.  “Neighbors look out for each other.”

“This can’t be happening,” the young woman cried.  “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Not on the cape!” Captain Marvel yelled, slowing his flight.  Sometimes, he forgot not everyone liked flying.

Dudley managed a tired chuckle.  “Yeah, there’s a reason I don’t travel much.”

The woman’s expression darkened as she stared down at the burning shell of her apartment.  She looked up at Dudley and sighed before a spark of curiosity ignited in her eyes. 

“Hey, Dudley, who was that little kid with you?  I didn’t know you had kids.”

The handyman grinned.  “I don’t.  His name is Billy.  He’s been staying with me for the past few days.”

“Is he your nephew or something?” the neighbor asked.  “He’s totally adorable!”

Dudley shook his head.  “Actually, I just met him a few days ago at my friend’s store.  I’ve seen him roaming around the neighborhood a few times.  When the storm got really bad earlier this week, I found him out cold in the snow.  He had a fever, so I picked him up and took him to the apartment.  I had to get him out of the storm.”

“Awww, that’s so nice of you,” the woman said with a fond smile. 

Dudley couldn’t help but return her friendly expression.  “He’s a really great kid.  I’m glad that I met him.  I just hope that he made it out okay.  If something happens to him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dudley,” the young man responded sympathetically.

Neither one of them noticed Captain Marvel’s grin.

Settling on a group of ambulances a few blocks from the apartment, the magical champion gracefully touched down beside a circle of paramedics clad in torn, soot-stained uniforms.  He gently set down his two passengers, who quickly thanked him before being ushered away by the paramedics.  One member of the group broke away and approached the hero. 

“Captain Marvel, right?  Boy, am I glad to see you!  We have some civilians trapped in an office building on the corner of Delilah St. and Freeman Ave.  We’ve set up a staging area here, but there’s nothing we can do for the people still trapped in the building.”

Captain Marvel nodded.  “I’ll go get everyone out and bring them here.  After that, I need to find the drone causing this.  It needs to be destroyed before Ivo tears the whole city apart.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” the paramedic added in an attempt to cut the quickly rising tension.  “If you can just evacuate the building, we can take care of the rest.”

The two exchanged thumbs-up before the red hero rose and shot skyward, leaving behind a shower of snow and several awestruck faces.  In a blink he was at the scene, and wasted no time evacuating people out of the windows of the blazing building.  Worn stone and burning debris rained down around him as he ferried panicked victims to the snow-drowned streets below.  The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently, transporting victims away from the scene and tending to the injured. 

“Is that everyone?” one of the medics asked Captain Marvel as he sank into the ankle-deep slush drift.

“I think there are a few more people stuck in the caved-in section,” the fearless hero stated as he helped a man to his feet.  “I need to go get them before the building collapses.  He took to the air once more and circled the disintegrating wreckage, searching for a possible entrance. 

_Come on!  I don’t have much time!  There’s got to be a way in!_

As if privy to his unspoken plea, a large chunk of aged brick dislodged from a wall and crushed a car below.  Captain Marvel winced momentarily before ducking into the gap.  Landing between two shaky beams, he shielded his mouth from the stifling smoke.  Dust and splintered wood swirled in the fire, obstructing his line of sight.  The building shuddered precariously, and Captain Marvel pressed onward. 

“Hello?  Is anyone in here?  Hello?!”

For a moment, the only sound he could hear was the roar of the flames.  Then, a meek voice pierced the veil of chaos. 

“…Is someone there…trapped…help…”

_Why can’t I have super-hearing too?_

Captain Marvel opened doors and zoomed down hallways, calling for the voice desperately.  The civilian continued to cry weakly for the hero.  As the foundation of the building began to rumble, the crimson hero’s efforts finally bore fruit.

Bursting through a stuck door, he came upon a mother and her unconscious son.  She was holding the unconscious child, clearly a few years younger than Billy, close to her chest as she huddled against the only non-combusted wall. 

“Oh thank heavens,” she stated, wiping away tears in her eyes.  “I’ve been trying to call for help.  A piece of wood fell on my son.  My husband is trapped in the other room.  Please, get him and my son out of here.”

“I can’t leave you, ma’am,” Captain Marvel replied.  He gently cradled the injured boy in his arms.  A thin stream of blood ran down the child’s head, staining his torn yellow shirt. 

Captain Marvel grimaced.  “I can’t just leave you, ma’am.”

“Just get them out of here!” she yelled, startling the mystic champion.  “Please!”

Captain Marvel hesitated.

“Go!” she yelled once more.  This time, he sprung to action, easy knocking down the door to the other room.  The young man inside nearly jumped out of his skin when the door nearly flattened him, but he didn’t think twice about letting his rescuer carry him out a nearby window and down to the glacial streets below. 

“There’s one more person stuck up there,” Captain Marvel said as he laid the boy on a stretcher.  “I’m going to…”

A loud _crash_ interrupted him.  He turned just in time to watch the rest of the building crumble to dust. 

_Oh no.  Please, don’t let me be too late!_

Paralyzed by the dismal scene before him, the hero barely registered the commotion that suddenly arose behind him.  A familiar voice pierced his morbid lamentations.

“Thank you for saving me!”

Captain Marveled turned to find the young woman standing behind him, shaken but alive. 

And then he noticed Batman. 

The brooding hero was staring at him, unfazed by the numerous civilians and emergency responders enthralled by his dark presence.  Captain raised his hand in an attempt to wave at the Dark Knight, but was cut off as the mother wrapped him in a hug.

“You saved my son,” she said tearfully.  “You saved my son’s life.  I can’t…I…thank you.  Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary ma’am.  He’s going to be alright.”

The woman remained attached to the crimson hero until a first responder led her to her son.  Regaining his composure, the magic guardian opened his mouth to greet Batman.  Much to his lack of surprise, the enigmatic hero was perched on a building, staring down over the frantic scene.  His eyes made contact with Captain Marvel’s, and he scowled. 

_Batman wants me up there with him_

A silent nod, and Captain Marvel was atop the building, face-to-face with Gotham’s protector.

“Captain,” the Dark Knight greeted.  Towering over the cowl-clad crusader, Captain Marvel felt slight in Batman’s presence.  A nervous half-smile came to his face.

“Uh…thanks for the save.  So, is everything okay in Gotham?  I heard that you…”

“You didn’t contact us,” Batman interjected.

“Yeah, I was just…I was …there were some….”

“I know where you were, Billy.” 

Captain Marvel staggered back, unable to conceal his surprise.  The initial shock faded quickly, and his demeanor returned to normal.

_Of course he knew.  He’s Batman!  He was bound to figure it out sooner or later._

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?  For not telling you?”

Batman’s expression remained unreadable as he eyed the nervous hero standing before him.  “No, that’s not the issue.  You, like everyone have a right to have a civilian identity and a life outside the League.  However, we are tasked with protecting the world.  Even with the members we have, we’re under-manned.  Each member of the League needs to put their responsibilities as a hero before their personal lives.  And if a hero is facing a challenge which interferes with their responsibilities, they need to let the others know.  No one, not even the members of the Justice League, is expected to handle all of their problems alone.  Not even me.”

Captain Marvel felt like Billy again.  He shifted nervously on his feet, unable to create the right words.  Batman seemed more intimidating than ever before.  But strangely, he seemed able to relate to the dark detective.  Gathering his courage, the mystical hero found his voice.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything.  I should have told everyone.  I just didn’t want them to think…less of me.”

“It’s fine” the Dark Knight replied tersely.  “And there are rooms in the Watchtower if you ever need a place to stay.”

A loud _beep_ came from the Dark Knight’s PDA.  He glanced at the device, scowled, and returned his attention to his crimson companion.

“We’ll finish this discussion later.  Right now, we need to go disable the drone above the city.”

_Later…_

Crazed clouds and golf-ball-sized hail battered Captain Marvel as he weathered the swirling storm blanketing Fawcett City.  The intrepid shielded his eyes from the relentless frost as he ascended towards the epicenter of the misty mass above him. 

“See anything,” Batman’s voice came through the static of his communicator. 

“No, nothing yet,” Captain Marvel stated.  “Anything new on your end?”

“The magnetic interference is jamming my equipment,” the dark detective responded calmly, “and the Watchtower still can’t identify the location.  You need to fly into the storm, find the device, and destroy it.

“Got it,” the fearless guardian answered.  His cape fluttered wildly in the wind and pulled at his neck as he broke through the cloud cover. 

“Batman?  Can you hear me?  I can’t see anything.”

Nothing but static answered. 

Captain Marvel continued onward through the harrowing tempest, searching desperately for any sign of the diabolical device.  Lightning flashed around him, casting a furious blue luminance through the clouds. 

_Holy Moly!  This is getting out of control!  Where could this thing be?_

The scarlet hero’s thoughts were cut short as a burst of forked lightning surged towards him.


	14. Battle

Battle

“Sir!  Sir!  You’re in no shape to be running around!  Sir!”

Dudley ignored the nagging voice behind him.  He sidestepped a piece of ashen rubble and pressed forward, ignoring back the throbbing ache in his knees.  He couldn’t stop.  Not until Billy was safe.

“Billy?  Billy!  Are you there?”

Dudley’s mad rush faltered when his foot caught on a piece of rubble.  He stumbled, managed a few unsteady steps, and fell flat on his face.  Before he could get up, a pair of small hands gripped his shoulder.  Mentally shaking off the pain, the fallen gentleman turned to find a young paramedic glaring at him with a mix of concern and frustration.  Her light blue eyes seemed to resonate with the singed snow around them, reflecting the dim orange light of the fire.

“You can’t just run off like that!” she stated firmly.  “You’re hurt.”

“Please!” Dudley replied, struggling to maintain his usual calm tone.  “I need to find…”

“I know you’re worried about your son,” the paramedic interjected, strengthening her grip on his shoulder.  “You’re not the only one.  There’s a woman back at triage whose daughter is missing.”  The woman let go of Dudley and took a step back.  “But you’re in no shape to dig through this mess.  You’re no good to Billy if you’re dead.  I promise we’ll send a group to search for him.  Please, just come back.”

Dudley hesitated for a moment.  His gaze wandered to the smoldering rubble of his former home.  Light played off the fragments of shattered glass, causing the nearby street to glimmer like the night sky.  A piece of scorched brick dislodged and fell into a half-melted pile of snow with a _thud_. 

Suddenly, something caught his attention.  A streak of faded scarlet half-buried in the snow.

Moving with trepidation, Dudley padded over to the haphazard snow drift and knelt down.  His worried companion followed him, muttering protestations that fell on deaf ears.  With a quick swipe he brushed away the water-logged snow and picked the item up. 

The soaked sleeve of the jacket clung to his wrist as he turned it over.  He immediately recognized it as Billy’s.

Noticing her charge’s worried expression, the paramedic knelt down beside him. 

“We need to get back,” she urged gently.  “There’s nothing you can do for him now.”

Forcing back the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, Dudley slung the torn item over his shoulder, carefully got to his feet, and followed the young woman away from the ruins.

_Elsewhere…_

Captain Marvel floated backwards just in time to avoid a crackling bolt of lightning.  A loud _bang_ hit his ears as a building below crumbled from the blast. 

_I need to stop this while there’s still a city left to save!_

Easily evading another blast of electricity, the intrepid hero burst through a cluster of clouds, only to find himself lost in a swirling squall.  Thunder crashed around him, echoing through the menacing sky. 

“Captain!” Batman’s voice resonated in his ear, breaking his shocked silence.  “Have you located the device?”

“Uhh…no.  No I haven’t,” the crimson champion answered, surveying his unfriendly surroundings.  “I can’t see anything in this storm.  Have you found anything?”

“No,” Batman replied tersely.  “Scanners still detect an energy signature near you.”

“I feel like I’m getting close,” Captain Marvel said, confidence seeping into his tone.  “I’m going to...”

A forked bolt struck the airborne hero from behind, sending him flying through a low-hanging cloud.  He quickly recovered, only to narrowly avoid another bolt, then another.  Dancing a brutal pattern within the threatening storm, he weaved between the deadly blasts.

“Holy Moly!” he exclaimed.  “The storm has a mind of its own.  It’s trying to kill me!”

He turned around in time for a brutal punch to make contact with his chin, launching him towards the ground below.  Making a swift midair recovery, the mighty hero found himself confronted by a familiar ebon-clad villain.

“The storm has no interest in a weakling like you, Champion,” Black Adam taunted.  “It is _I_ who will kill you.”

“Adam!” Captain Marvel exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden appearance of his nemesis.  “So you’re behind this.  I should have known.”  Not waiting for the tyrant’s response, the magical hero surged forward, landing a crushing strike to his foe’s midsection.  Black Adam fell back but easily recovered, countering with a midair kick.  Captain Marvel ducked to evade the attack before releasing a blast of mystical lightning.  The bolt struck Black Adam’s chest, tearing his clothes and knocking him back.

“Why are you doing this?” Captain Marvel questioned as he continued his attack.  “Are you in league with Ivo?  What do you stand to gain from his plan?”

“I have little interest in Ivo’s goals,” Black Adam admitted as he landed, then winded his foe with a crushing blow.  “He freed me from my prison and offered me a chance to kill you.  I want nothing more.”

“Are you still mad at me for being picked over you by the wizard and being trapped?” Captain Marvel queried.

Black Adam responded with a blast of lightning.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Captain Marvel quipped coyly. 

“ _I_ was supposed to be the wizard’s champion!” Black Adam roared.  “His power is supposed to be _mine_!”

“If you want it, you’ll have to go through me,” Captain Marvel retorted calmly as he weaved between attacks.

Anger flared in Black Adam’s eyes, and the vile villain shot skyward.  Turning abruptly, he dived and crashed into Captain Marvel, sending the hero tumbling towards the icy wreckage below.  The scarlet hero managed to recover a few feet from the ground, only to be tackled by Black Adam once more.  Grappling with his heroic foe, Black Adam swung around and slammed him into the side of a damaged building.  The wall collapsed, and Captain Marvel tumbled across the dusty floor.  He looked up to find Black Adam staring down at him with contempt.

“Go through you?  Gladly.”

Seizing the lull in the fight, Captain Marvel stood and dusted himself off.  His nearly endless stamina was beginning to fade, and his ancient enemy showed no signs of fatigue.  He needed to find another way to stop the fight…

Then an idea came to him.

“I never thought you’d be Ivo’s slave,” he commented, staring at the magical villain with a false composure. 

“I am no one’s slave!” Black Adam spat back.  The villain grabbed his opponent by his collar and hurled him out of the building.  Captain Marvel halted himself in midair and took a deep breath.

“Really?  Then why are you doing this?  You’re just watching over his machine to make sure he gets what he wants.  And for what?  I know you don’t care about money or the rest of the Justice League.”

“He gave me the opportunity to fight you.” Black Adam answered, his voice echoing through the deserted street. 

“And you couldn’t get that yourself?” Captain Marvel continued.  “If you’re as powerful as you say, you shouldn’t need him to help you.  He’s using you to get what he wants.  And you’re following him like a dog.”

“Insolent whelp!” the villain roared, blind fury burning furiously in his eyes.  The villain shot forward and delivered a brutal jab to his opponent’s stomach.  Captain Marvel managed to catch his breath and returned to dodging his opponent’s attack.  Winding up, he landed an uppercut, launching Black Adam skyward.  The hero smirked and soared towards his opponent, landing another punch.  The ebon-clad villain reeled upward, leaving holes in the shadowy storm clouds swirling above.  Captain Marvel followed him high above, pressing the advantage with unerring aim and determination.  The two emerged from the tempest, and Black Adam tried to regain his balance.  Surveying his surroundings, Captain Marvel noticed a rotating metal object hovering a short distance away.  Electricity played along the metal rods that protruded from the device, channeling into the clouds nearby.

_That’s got to be the device!_

Without hesitation, the crimson hero surged forward and crashed into the machine.  The object shattered, sending metallic debris plummeting through the rapidly dispersing storm clouds.  In mere moments the violent squall cleared, replaced by a light snowfall. 

Recovering, Black Adam looked at his triumphant adversary and scowled.

“Your master won’t be happy,” the hero mocked.  Letting loose an angry snarl, Black Adam soared forward and tacked his mocking foe.  The enraged antihero grappled with Captain Marvel and dived towards the ground, carrying his bewildered enemy with him.  He delivered a massive blow to his rival, sending him crashing into a ravaged storefront below.  The hero recovered, but was met by another brutal blow.  Attempting to gather his wits, the magical guardian found himself trapped in Black Adam’s grasp.  He struggled to escape the resilient villain, but to no avail. 

“He is _not_ my master!” the supervillain yelled.  The anger in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by a devious understanding.  “You have done well to destroy the device.  But I will still triumph this day.” 

The ebon tyrant raised his head and called to the sky. 

**Shazam!**

The villain drifted backwards, smiling sadistically as the mystical bolt collided with his dazed adversary.  Captain Marvel let out a pained cry as the lightning enveloped him. 

Moments later, an injured Billy Batson tumbled from the sky and landed in a deep snow drift.

The weary boy sat up shakily and coughed.  A torn strip of his turtleneck caught on a piece of refuse, forcing him to tear himself free.  The young hero gingerly touched a burn on his cheek while he struggled to gain footing in the pile of slush.  Leaning on a piece of rubble, he stood, causing searing pain to shoot through his ankle.  Black Adam watched him with predatory curiosity as his victim fell back into the snow with a pained cry. 

Without warning, the villain soared down and lifted the brave child by the hem of his turtleneck.  Billy struggled in his captor’s grasp, thrashing with all the strength he could muster. 

“Let me go!” he cried, hiding his fear behind a defiant mask.  “You won’t get away with this!”

“I already have,” the supervillain responded, watching his miniature foe with grim amusement.  “I never cared about the scientist’s plan.  My goal was to draw you out.  You may have ended the storm, but now I will end _you_.” 

Billy gritted his teeth. 

**Shaz…**

The boy’s call was interrupted by Black Adam, who clasped his hand roughly over the boy’s mouth.  Billy redoubled his struggling, kicking at his opponent’s chest as he tried to break free.  Quickly growing impatient, Black Adam slammed the boy’s head into a nearby wall.  Reeling from the force of the blow, Billy clutched his head in both hands.  Black Adam grinned sadistically before smashing him against the wall again.  Billy let out a groan and hung loosely in his opponent’s grip.  He didn’t react when Black Adam whirled around and hurled him into another wall. 

Struggling to sit up, Billy found himself staring fearfully at his triumphant enemy.  Black Adam loomed over him, crackling with magical lightning.

“Pathetic.  The wizard chose a child to wield his power.  Now he will see the error of his ways.”

The tyrant held out one hand, alive with electricity.  Billy curled into himself and sobbed softly.

“Any last words, boy?”

Struggling with tears, Billy sucked in a breath of frigid air. 

**Shazam!**


	15. Endgame

Endgame

A single, arced bolt of lightning pierced the thin storm clouds overhead and shot towards Black Adam, who towered menacingly over his young, injured adversary.  The tyrannical villain’s gaze flicked skyward before settling on the sobbing boy before him. 

“Why you…,“ was all the ancient despot managed to utter before the bolt struck, bathing the alley in blinding light.  Billy shielded his eyes with his one working arm as intense magical heat washed over him.  At once the spell faded, and the omnipresent chill of winter seeped back into the abandoned alley.  Still shaking from a combination of cold, fear, and pain, the young hero dared to peek between his fingers.  His gambit couldn’t have worked, could it?  Black Adam would fall for…that…?

Black Adam was gone.

Billy brushed himself off and looked around.  There was no sign of his adversary.  The deadly despot had disappeared. 

_Did I do something?  I didn’t know the lightning could do that?  Maybe it was someone else’s magic…_

The severity of his situation slowly seeped back into his conscience, and his curiosity turned to an impending sense of fear.  Instinct kicked in, and the boy tried to stand.  His valiant effort only resulted in a wave of pain that coursed through his frail form.  With a yelp, he fell back into a puddle of melted snow.  Billy tried again to get up, but only succeeded in bumping his head against the wall of the alley.  Billy forced himself to calm down and brushed back the water-logged hair clinging to his forehead.

Looking down, he noticed a number of open wounds beneath his shredded clothes.  A large part of his pant leg had torn off during his skirmish with Black Adam, exposing discolored, swollen flesh.  He attempted to move the limb, but to no avail.  Frowning, Billy raised his hand and gingerly touched a sore spot on his cheek.  After the beating Black Adam had given him, there was no doubt he had a black eye.

_Oh geez!  I’m in really bad shape.  I’d better go find help._

Billy sucked in a breath of cold air and sneezed.  Gripping the creases in the brickwork behind him, the intrepid child hauled himself to his feet.  He hopped along the wall, being careful not to put any weight on his injured leg.  In his haste, he failed to notice a stone concealed in a snow drift ahead of him.  Stumbling, the boy fell hard on his bad knee, and a sharp cry escaped him.  He gently pressed the appendage to his chest and willed the tears to stop. 

_I can make it!  I’ve been through worse than this!_

Wincing, Billy propped himself against the wall and looked out of the alley.  The swirling, ominous storm had dissipated, leaving behind a light snowfall that blanketed the ravaged streets and ruined buildings downtown.  The area was eerily silent; in all his short life, Billy had never seen downtown Fawcett empty before.  Still, the scene seemed oddly peaceful. 

Despite everything, Billy found himself smiling. 

The wounded boy sidled up to the worn brick wall behind him and adjusted the tattered remains of his sweater.  Despite his mental resistance, his eyelids grew heavy.  Succumbing to exhaustion, the hurt hero closed his eyes and nodded off.

_Elsewhere…_

“Well, it seems our plan hasn’t worked out the way we expected it to,” Lex Luthor stated calmly as he watched Professor Ivo type away frantically at the small device in front of him.  The mad scientist disregarded his companion’s obvious statement as he worked desperately to command the few remaining weather drones.  Most of the diabolical devices had been eliminated by members of the Justice League, and the few that were still operational had begun to malfunction due to some unexpected interference.  Gritting his teeth silently, Ivo typed in a string of commands.  A terse message informed him that another drone had been destroyed, and the scientist let out an angry grumble. 

“Aargh!” he yelled.  “The drones won’t connect.  I can’t execute the SMC override and regain connectivity.”

“You should try turning it off, then turning it on again,” the Joker suggested with a laugh.  “Or maybe you need to replace the batteries.”

“Maybe some magic might be of assistance,” Wotan suggested, but Ivo merely waved the wizard’s suggestion away.

“No, the heroes are destroying the drones too quickly.  Unless you have a spell that can stop them, from attacking the drones all across the country, it won’t help.  Still, there has to be a way…”

“We should follow Freeze’s example and abandon this effort,” Luthor advised coolly.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in business, you need to be able to cut unprofitable projects and get out while you still can.”

“You’re just going to let the Justice League win?” the madman snapped.  “After all my hard work?  You can’t expect me to just throw away my masterwork!”

“For a ‘masterwork’, your technology did little more than give the members of the Justice League a cold,” Luthor replied, his ever even tone contrasting with his condescension.  “We’ve already done what we needed to.  We’ve caused enough damage to send a message to the people.  The Justice League can’t protect them.  You’ll still get your revenge on Superman, and Black Adam presumably dealt with Captain Marvel by now.  And Lexcorp will still profit tremendously from the chaos.”

“I’ve seen the news reports,” Deathstroke commented.  “With the relief efforts Lexcorp has initiated, the people think of you as a savior.”

“That is the idea,” Luthor responded, grinning deviously.

“I haven’t heard anything from Adam,” Klarion added as he pet Teekl.  “Do you think the big red dork managed to beat him?”

“If he did, then we may be in trouble,” Deathstroke mused grimly.  The assassin put away the knife he was sharpening, walked over to Ivo, and peered over his shoulder.  Ignoring the madman’s disdainful look, Deathstroke skimmed the code streaming along the screen for a few moments. 

“You can’t read this,” Ivo stated rudely.

“I don’t need to read it,” the assassin retorted, his one eye narrowing.  “I know it says ‘your plan failed.’  And I’m not in the mood to go to jail today.  I’m gone.”

“I agree with Deathstroke,” Luthor concurred.  “We can regroup outside Fawcett without the heroes noticing.”

“I don’t think so, Luthor.”

The villainous businessman turned to find Batman staring him down, flanked by Zatara, the Flash, and Green Lantern.

Luthor straightened his tie and put on a faux-smile.  “Ah, Batman.  As you can see, we’re in the middle of a meeting.  If you wish to speak with me, I suggest you contact my secretary and schedule an appointment.”

“Where you’re going, Luthor, you’ll have plenty of free time,” Flash answered, taking a fighting stance.

“Batsy!” the Joker greeted as he jumped to his feet and brandished a bloody knife.  “It’s so good to see you!  Where is Chicken?  I’ve so missed the Boy Blunder.”

“I don’t need Robin to deal with you,” Batman replied tersely.

Deathstroke watched the exchange with silent animosity.  Without a word, the hitman took out a gun and fired several rounds at the heroes.  Sidestepping easily, the Flash zoomed up and tackled him to the ground. 

Without another word, chaos broke loose in the warehouse. 

Batman sidestepped errant magic attacks and hurled Batarangs as he attempted to close the distance between him and Ivo.  All he needed to do was access the console and he could shut down the remaining drones. 

The Dark Knight’s mad dash came to a hault when a metal pipe crashed into his midsection, sending him stumbling sideways.  The Joker let out a mad cackle and stepped back, gripping the pipe in one hand and a dagger in the other.

“Aww,” the clown prince mocked.  “When everyone picked dance partners, poor Batsy got left out.  Come on, old friend.  Let’s tango!”

“I don’t have time for you, Joker,” Batman answered impatiently.  He brandished an explosive Batarang and threw it.  The joker easily sidestepped the weapon, which lodged itself into the floor and detonated. 

“You never do,” the psychopathic villain responded, his voice dripping with venomous malice.  Joker charged his heroic adversary, but Batman countered with a swift kick, knocking the vile criminal off balance.  The Joker recovered and swung his knife in a wide arc, barely missing the Dark Knight’s neck.  The caped crusader returned suit with a jab that connected with the Joker’s midsection.  Winded, the villain stumbled backward, tripped over his own feet, and fell to the ground roughly.  Before Batman could take a step, the Joker jumped to his feet.  The villain laughed maniacally, and produced several more daggers.  Before Joker could throw them, Batman jumped forward and barreled into him, sending the villain reeling back.  The courageous crusader lunged forward and delivered a swift kick to his opponent’s head, putting the Clown Prince of Crime out of commission. 

Batman peered over his shoulder to find Deathstroke and Wotan unconscious.  Luthor, Klarion, and Ivo were pressed against the wall of the warehouse, surrounded by a squad of heroes. 

“I was right,” Luthor stated, a note of nervousness in his voice.  “We should have left while we had the chance.”

“Be quiet,” Ivo snapped, raising his hands in surrender.

“No, he’s right,” Klarion chimed.  “We should probably all get out of here.”

“You’re not going…!” Flash yelled. 

Before the crimson hero could finish, Klarion snapped his fingers, and the villainous trio disappeared in a burst of blood-red flame.  The fallen forms of Deathstroke, Wotan, and the Joker followed, leaving the heroes alone in the warehouse with Ivo’s device.

“…anywhere,” Flash finished, a comical look of annoyance plastered on his face.  “I hate magic bad guys.”

Batman wasted no time in breaking the scientist’s meager security protocols and shutting down all of the weather drones. 

“Well, that was easy,” Green Lantern stated, watching as Batman typed the last few commands into Ivo’s device. 

The Flash let out a laugh.  “Yeah!  We disabled the drones, beat the bad guys, found Captain Marvel, and saved the city.  No problem.”  He stopped as a thought came to him. 

“Wait…we did find Cap, right Bruce?”

Batman turned and surveyed the optimistic bunch of heroes staring at him expectantly.  A troubled look crossed his features and he quickly surveyed the warehouse.  His stoic expression returned as he fiddled with his PDA. 

“Captain Marvel is helping to rescue the remaining citizens trapped downtown.  We’ll debrief him on the Watchtower after the crisis is over.”

“Hopefully that isn’t too long,” Flash replied, eliciting the affirmation of his peers.  The group engaged in conversation, mirthfully discussing their recent successes. 

None of them realized that Batman had already left.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
> Hey everyone! I just wanted to apologize for the long wait. Law school finals have a really long study period, and I’ve been grinding away for three weeks. I’m finally done, and can get back to writing. I just wanted to thank all of the wonderful reviews over these past few weeks, and for the support of my readers. You guys are great! Thank you so much! Don’t forget to review, follow, and favorite!


	16. Aftermath

Aftermath

“The calamity in Gotham has been averted, sir,” Alfred explained calmly, an elusive smile gracing his aging features.  “Master Grayson managed to stop the petty criminals that were taking advantage of the inclement weather.  The Batplane is transmitting a live feed to the Cave once again.  I presume you were able to disable the drone over Fawcett City?  Did you manage to apprehend those responsible?”

“No,” Batman replied tersely.  “The villains fled when we confronted them.  The group included Lex Luthor, Professor Ivo, Klarion, Wotan, Deathstroke, and the Joker.  The technology used to control the drones seemed to be of Ivo’s creation, but I have a feeling that he had…help…creating the drones.”

Alfred’s smile quickly faded, replaced by his ever-present thoughtful stare.  “That is a troubling prospect, Master Bruce.  I fear that our enemies may be planning something greater.  You cannot allow them to gain footing as a criminal organization.”

Batman scowled as he pushed several buttons on the Batplane’s console.  “I agree.  I need to meet with the League and debrief them.  We need to figure out what their next move is.”

“Certainly, sir,” Alfred responded.  “Have you had any luck locating Captain Marvel?”

“No.  He was trying to rescue civilians when I found him earlier,” Batman explained.  “He and I attempted to enter the storm and disable the drone.  His communicator stopped transmitting a signal, and I lost contact with him.  I couldn’t relocate the signal after the drone was destroyed.”

Alfred let out a heavy sigh and deftly swiped his fingers across the console in front of him.  Much to his dismay, a red message appeared onscreen, displaying the prominent text:

**Signal not found.**

“The Cave is not receiving the signal either,” the aging gentleman stated grimly.  “The problem must be his communicator.  I hope that you are going to look for him.”

Batman nodded silently.  “With the villains gone, I doubt Captain Marvel is in trouble.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed slightly.  “Captain Marvel is almost as powerful as Superman.  I share your lack of worry in that respect.  My concern is young Batson.  He may be injured.  And even without the drones, he will not survive long out in the storm.”

“I’ll find him,” Batman stated flatly. 

For a moment, doubt played across Alfred’s grey-blue eyes. 

“Let us hope that there is someone left for you to find, Master Bruce.”

With a cursory nod, Batman pushed a button on his console, cutting off the feed to the Batcave.  He returned his attention to the desolate streets below, searching for any signs of a struggle.  The freshly fallen snow concealed much of the destruction, as if hiding Fawcett’s scars.  Still, much of the ruination remained visible.  Overturned cars and charred rubble sat solemnly among the shattered husks of skyscrapers and small buildings.  Chunks of ancient brick and gleaming shards of glass peaked out from underneath the stark-white snow, shimmering in the light filtering through the clouds above.  Batman soared among the buildings, turning and weaving as he searched the countless streets and alleys for signs of his lost comrade.

As his search for Captain Marvel dragged on, Batman’s hope began to waver.  There were no distinguishing marks, no signs of a magical struggle.  All the wreckage looked the same.  There was no way he would be able to find Captain Marvel without scouring the whole city.  And if Billy was lost in the snow, then he would likely die long before anyone found him…

_Wait.  Something’s wrong here._

Batman slowed the Batplane’s flight slightly and peered down at the scene below him.  A brick building loomed below him.  Charred streaks ran down the side of the building, pointing to the alley beside the crumbling tenement.  A large, snow-filled crater sat prominently in the street in front, surrounded by several cars with broken windshields.

_This must be it._

Batman slowed his flight and landed the Batplane a few short blocks away.  Jumping out, the caped crusader launched a grappling hook into a balcony above him and started swinging between destroyed structures.  He deftly maneuvered between crushed spires and charred metal, being careful to avoid grappling the unstable building fragments that riddled the crumbling structures.  The Dark Knight reached the alley with breakneck speed.  Skills honed honed by years of training, he deftly swung along the edge of a building and dropped silently into the snow-covered alleyway. 

There he found Billy slumped against the wall, both arms tucked against his chest.

Batman knelt by the unconscious boy’s side and looked him over.  Even with his limited medical knowledge, the guardian of Gotham could tell the young hero’s leg was broken.  And the scrapes and bruises littering the boy’s body did little to ease his concern.

“Captain?” Batman urged, his voice unwavering.  No answer. 

“Billy?” the stoic superhero tried again.  Again, Billy did nothing to acknowledge him.  Maintaining his composure, Batman rolled up the boy’s sleeve and checked for a pulse. 

1…2…3…Nothing.

_I’m too late._

Batman stood and took a breath of frigid air.  Scowling he reached for his communicator and prepared to call the league.  Looking down at the fallen hero, he reconsidered. 

_With the League stretched thin as it is, they don’t need to deal with another crisis.  And he…would have wanted to keep his identity a secret._

Suddenly, the buzzing of his communicator interrupted the somber mood.  Frowning, Batman took the small device off his utility belt. 

“Sir, I wanted to inform you that Lucius Fox has contacted me about an issue concerning a Waynetech facility due to the weather.  He says that the matter is urgent.”

“Now is not the time, Alfred” Bruce spat, frustration permeating his usually calm demeanor.

Surprised by his charge’s sudden outburst, Alfred’s cleared his throat on the other end of the line.  “I presume that the search for Captain Marvel has thus far been unfruitful.”

Batman sighed.  “No, I found him.  What’s left of him.”

“Do not blame yourself, Master Bruce,” Alfred replied, his tone taking an understanding note.  “I’m sure you arrived as quickly as you could.”

“I shouldn’t have let him join the League,” Batman retorted sharply.

“Even _you_ cannot discern the identity of everyone,” Alfred answered, his tone a mix of compassion and seriousness.  “And even if you had, I doubt you would have been able to stop him.  The boy knew the risks, and he took them willingly.  Trying to keep him from heroics would have been no more successful than my efforts to stop you from putting on the mantle of the bat.”

Batman said nothing, his gaze fixed on Billy’s body.

“Regardless, now is not the time to lament personal shortcomings, Master Bruce.  There is still work to be done in Gotham and in affected cities across the country.  The Justice League still needs your leadership.”

“…thank you, Alfred,” Batman responded after a moment of contemplation.  Silently thanking the universe for his butler’s competence and level head, Batman clicked off his communicator, replaced it in his utility belt, and knelt down beside Billy’s prone form.  Batman carefully lifted the boy off the frosted ground…

…and nearly dropped the small hero as he let out a weak whimper.

Shaking off his shock, Batman rolled up the boy’s sleeve and checked for his pulse once again.  He grinned as the steady _th-thump_ of the boy’s heart beat against his palm.

_I wasn’t paying enough attention when I checked his pulse the first time._

The Dark Knight slowly got to his feet and adjusted his grip on the injured boy.  Billy shifted again and muttered something inaudible before nestling his head against Batman’s shoulder. 

The boy didn’t make another sound during the long walk to the Batplane.

_Later…_

A small, brown haired paramedic ran about, frantically trying to load injured civilians into ambulances as quickly as she could while maintaining order.  Though the danger seemed to be over, and many of the critically injured had already been moved, many hurt people still milled about, panicked and desperate to find their loved ones. 

She hurried past a crying couple and barked orders at few of her co-workers, who were being less than helpful.  Rubbing her temple with her free hand, she scanned the scratched clipboard in her hands. 

“Dammit!” she exclaimed, flipping through a few pages angrily.  “I’m not a miracle worker!  I can only help so many people at the same time.  Where’s Captain Marvel when you need him…?”

She looked up to find Batman staring at her, carrying an unconscious raven-haired boy.  Stumbling back, she dropped her clipboard before clearing her throat and regaining her composure. 

“…or Batman.  Batman is also good.  I should ask for cool stuff more often.”

The Dark Knight disregarded her unusual statement and carefully handed her the boy, who let out a pained groan.  The paramedic instinctively examined the child’s injuries, wincing as she noticed his broken leg. 

“He was caught in the crossfire between me and one of the villains who attacked the city,” the imposing hero stated as she worked.

The woman adjusted her hold on the boy and gave Batman a curt nod.  “His injuries look bad.  We’ll take him to Binder Memorial Hospital on the outskirts of Fawcett.  It wasn’t hit by the storm.”

“Good,” the Dark Knight replied. 

“What caused all of the…?” the paramedic began to ask. 

But the enigmatic hero was already gone.

A cry from the group of injured civilians drew her attention back to her urgent task.  She glanced back down at the wounded kid in her arms.  He let out another pained groan before quieting down.

“C’mon, kiddo,” she soothed.  “Let’s go get you patched up.”

From atop a nearby building, Batman watched the young paramedic hurry back to her overrun operation.  Removing his communicator, he pushed a button and Alfred’s voice came through.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Captain Marvel was alive,” Batman explained plainly.  “I made a mistake when I checked his pulse earlier.

“That is very good news, sir,” the butler replied formally.  “And with how little time you gave me to teach you my medical knowledge, it is no surprise that you made a mistake.  When you return home, I intend to revisit your training.”

“Alright,” Batman relented. 

“However, I am certain you called me for something more pressing than delivering good news,” Alfred urged inquisitively.

“I need you to do me a favor…” Batman began.

_Elsewhere…_

Dudley hated sitting around doing nothing.  He looked down at the bandage wrapped around his ankle.  Though his injuries were minor, he had been instructed not to walk around too much until they healed.  As such, he was stuck on the couch at the home of his friend, the storeowner.  After the destruction of Dudley’s apartment and his vain attempts to find Billy, he had run into the young man whose radiator he had fixed.  The shop-owner had miraculously managed to escape the destruction, as did his small house on the outskirts of Fawcett City.  Sadly, his store did not.  Nevertheless, he maintained his good spirits, and readily invited Dudley to stay with him until the older man had recovered and found a new apartment.  Now propped up against the side of the couch, Dudley’s thoughts continually drifted back to Billy.  He hadn’t seen or heard from the boy since they had parted ways at his apartment.  The aging man couldn’t shake the feeling that harm had befallen his young charge.  And if something _had_ happened to Billy, then he was to blame. 

Dudley knew he shouldn’t have left the boy on his own.  Even though he knew that keeping Billy with him would have been dangerous, a stinging guilt still burned in his mind. 

_He trusted me.  And he got hurt because of it._

Dudley’s remorseful train of thought was derailed when his cell phone began to ring.  He took out the archaic device and looked at the caller ID.

_Huh.  No ID or number._

Flipping open the phone, he pushed the “answer” button and held it to his ear. 

“Hello”

“Dudley H. Dudley?” a British voice on the other end queried.

“Yes.  Who is this?”

“There is a boy at Binder Memorial Hospital asking for you.  His name is Billy Batson.”

Dudley’s eyes went wide.  “Billy!  Is he alright?”

But the mysterious man had already hung up.


	17. Reunited

Reunited

A wave of nausea washed over Billy as he opened his eyes.  A dull grey blur greeted the weary boy, prompting him to try and blink away the veil of sleep hanging over him.  Colors danced on the edge of his vision, and strange voices seemed to echo in the distance.  A cold wind blew over him, sending a chill down his aching spine and whistling among the disjointed voices pervading his dulled senses.  He tried to sit up, but to no avail.  After a herculean effort, he managed to groan weakly and roll onto his side.  Suddenly, several incomprehensible voices erupted around him as a pair of hands gently took hold of his midsection and rolled him onto his back.

“ _Awake…steady…move him…careful…really badly hurt…_ ”

Panic gripped Billy, and he instinctively began to struggle in the mysterious person’s hold, despite his body’s protests.  The grip tightened and a hint of desperation seemed to seep into the voices around him.  Billy’s stamina depleted in record time; drained by his feeble attempts to escape, the boy slumped back and let out a slow breath.  The frightened boy looked up at the grey blur above him once more, and suddenly felt himself moving backwards.  The dull grey was replaced by a glistening white just as Billy lost consciousness. 

_Later…_

Billy once again roused from his stifling slumber.  This time, he was greeted by a whitewashed ceiling.  Still dazed, the young hero tried to rub away the fog lingering in his vision.

_Where am I?  It’s so bright.  Am I dead?  Is this…heaven?_

Wanting to discern his whereabouts, Billy attempted to get up, but found himself pinned down.  He craned his neck to find a stark-white bedsheet tucked around him.  Reaching down to free himself, the boy was shocked to find a thin, clear tube stuck in the crook of his arm, held down by a strip of medical tape.  The fog of sleep finally cleared from his mind, replaced by a pervasive curiosity.

_I don’t think this is heaven…_

A quick survey of his surroundings confirmed the wounded boy’s suspicions.

_No.  I’m in the hospital.  But what happened?_

With great difficulty, Billy sat upright and propped himself up with his pillow.  He winced as a spark of pain flared up in his shoulder.  The wounded hero looked down to find that his tattered sweater was gone, leaving only his blood-stained t-shirt.  Bandages and gauze covered the myriad injuries he had sustained during his recent fight with Black Adam…

_Black Adam!  The city!  The League!_

Billy’s recollection of the fight brought with in an acute sense of dread.  Intent on transforming back into Captain Marvel, the brave child forced himself up and moved to get out of bed.  His noble attempt was halted as agonizing pain shot through his leg.  Billy fell back against his pillow and let out a string of the few expletives that his young vernacular contained.  The boy’s outburst was interrupted when he looked up to find an elderly man standing in the doorway, a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in his hand.  The older gentleman stared down at the injured child before giving a smile that did little to hide his concern.  Watching the man’s reaction, Billy felt heat rise to his cheeks.  He shrunk under the covers slightly. 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” he apologized shyly.  “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, son,” the man reassured warmly.  “You’ve been through a lot recently.”  The doctor strolled over to a chair at Billy’s bedside and sat down.  Removing a pen tucked in his ear, he flipped through the papers on his clipboard for a moment before locking eyes with the bedridden boy. 

“I’m Doctor Singer,” the man explained, his tone even and inviting.  “I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.  He chuckled at Billy’s tentative nod. 

“Can you tell me your name, son?” he queried gently.

“William Joseph Batson,” Billy answered tentatively.  “But everyone calls me Billy.”

“Okay Billy,” the doctor responded, noting something on his clipboard.  “Can you tell me what day it is?”

“It’s Thursday…I think,” Billy offered, slightly confused by the gentleman’s line of questioning.  “Where am I, sir?”

The doctor looked up from his notes and adjusted his thin-framed glasses.  “You’re at Binder Memorial Hospital just outside Fawcett.  Do you remember how you got here?”

Billy shook his head.

“You were brought in here a few hours ago.  You’re in very bad shape.  Can you tell me what happened to you?”

At this, the battered boy hesitated.

_I can’t tell him how I really got hurt..._

“I…I can’t really remember what happened.  All I remember is that I was trying to run away, and something hit me really, hard, and I got knocked out.  It was really, really scary…”

The doctor looked down at his clipboard and took a few notes before casting Billy a worried glance.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Billy curled deeper under the covers.  The motion sent another jab of pain through his broken leg, forcing a pained gasp.

“Does your leg still hurt?” the doctor asked gently. 

“Yeah,” Billy replied, his eyes watering. 

“We’ll get you something to help with that,” the aging physician replied gently.  “I’d like to run a few tests later to make sure that you’re okay.  Until then, try to get some rest.”

With that the doctor exited the room, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts.  The injured boy found a comfortable position and let out a contented sigh.

By the time the doctor had returned with medicine, the young hero was fast asleep.

_Elsewhere..._

“And you _still_ don’t know where Captain Marvel is?” Black Canary asked, her temper permeating her tone.  Batman didn’t flinch, watching in stoic silence as the heroine onscreen crossed her arms and glared at him menacingly. 

“I know where he is,” the mysterious crime-fighter responded succinctly.

“You just don’t want to tell me or the rest of the League,” Black Canary stated pointedly.  “He’s been out of contact with us for the entire mission.  And now that you found him, you won’t let us talk to him or know where he is.  What could possibly…”

“Fawcett City is his home,” Batman interjected.  “His personal life was impacted by the attack.  He needs time to deal with the aftermath.”

“So do other members of the League, like Clark, Ollie, you, and me!” Canary retorted.  “But we’re still maintaining contact with the rest of the League.”

“Circumstances are different,” Batman explained, his manner conveying impatience.

“How are they different?” Canary pressed relentlessly.  She paused.  “Is he hurt?  Did something happen?  Is that why he hasn’t contacted us yet?”

The ebon crusader gave no reply.

“I’m in my right mind to get Diana to squeeze the truth out of you with her lasso,” the displeased heroine threatened.  “Answer me Bruce or so help me…”

“Captain Marvel will recover from his injuries.  He is safe.  As I said before, he needs time.”

Black Canary gave a heavy sigh and another disapproving look. 

“Alright, Bruce.  But both of you have some explaining to do when this blows over.”

The Dark Knight nodded before pressing a button on the console in front of him.  At once the screen went dark, casting gloom over the Batcave once more. 

“Well, she sounds angry,” Robin commented from behind the guardian of Gotham.  The sarcastic sidekick jumped off the hood of the Batmobile, one of his favorite spots to sit in the Batcave, and walked up to his partner in crime-fighting.  Batman paid his charge’s nonchalant assessment no heed as he pressed a button on his PDA.  At once, the voice of Commissioner Gordon rang through. 

“Batman,” the aging police chief greeted, sounding much more relaxed than he had been in a long time, “to what do I owe the pleasure.”

“What’s the status of the situation in central Gotham?” the Dark Knight inquired.

“All of the affected citizens have been moved to temporary housing,” the Commissioner answered.  “The injured have been transported to Gotham General Hospital.  And you protégé did good work in stopping the few street gangs still causing trouble after the storm passed through.  Did you manage to capture the Joker and Mr. Freeze? 

“No,” Batman answered.  “The Joker escaped with the help of a magical villain.  And Freeze was not among the villains when we confronted them in Fawcett City.  I have yet to discover any clues regarding their locations.”

“Let me know if you do,” Gordon replied.  “Until then, let’s enjoy the momentary peace.”

Once again the screen went dark.  Batman whirled about to find Alfred approaching him with two steaming cups of coffee. 

“It seems the worst is over, Master Bruce,” the butler said as he handed a cup of coffee to Robin.  The Boy Wonder mouthed a silent “thank you” before taking a long drink.  The posh gentleman carefully handed his employer the second drink.  “The disaster has been averted and young Batson seems to be in capable hands.”

“Who?” Robin asked.

“But we still have to find the villains who orchestrated this attack,” Batman replied, ignoring Dick’s query.  “I have a feeling that we haven’t seen the last of them. 

_Elsewhere…_

A commotion roused Billy from his slumber.  The recovering hero yawned loudly, stretched, and immediately regretted it as his broken leg responded with a stab of pain.  Still groggy, he listened carefully to the amalgamation of voices battling outside the door to his room.  Even in his dazed state, he could make out some fragments of the conversation. 

“Can’t go…weak…sleeping…safety…sir…hours…”

The inaudible exchange continued as Billy grew steadily more aware.  Without warning, the door to his room creaked open, snapping the wounded boy’s attention to the door.  A brown-haired nurse popped her head inside.  Her stoic expression brightened at the sight of the raven-haired child staring at her inquisitively.  Putting on a smile, she stepped into the room. 

“There’s someone here named Dudley who would like to see you named.  Are you feeling well enough to see him, or should I tell him to visit later?”

“Dudley’s here?” Billy asked, his blue eyes brightening.

The nurse giggled at the wide-eyed boy’s response.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then.”  She turned her attention outside the room. 

“You can see him, sir, but please be careful.  He’s still recovering.”  At that, the nurse left, and a familiar grey-haired man stepped into the room. 

“Billy!” Dudley exclaimed, looking over the battered boy.  Ignoring the pain, Billy sat up and turned to face his friend.

“Hey, Dudley,” he greeted with a weak smile.  The worried gentleman walked over and took a seat by the boy’s bedside. 

“What happened to you, kiddo?” Dudley asked, concern intermingling with his tone.  “You had me worried sick.”

Billy stared into the kind man’s eyes, pondering how to respond.

“I don’t really remember,” he explained after a moment of deliberation.  “Something hit me really hard and I passed out.  I’m sorry I ran off.”

Dudley placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s not your fault.  I should have been more careful.  When you disappeared, I was worried you…I don’t think I could have forgiven myself.  When the hospital called me and told me you were looking for me, I came as fast as I could. 

Billy stared at him for a moment.

_I didn’t tell them to call you.  This must have something to do with Batman...I should just keep my mouth shut._

“Thanks for coming,” Billy said.  “It’s nice to have someone here.”

“Anytime, sport,” Dudley replied with a grin.

“What about you?” the hurt boy questioned.  “What about your house?”

“I’m fine, though I’ll have to find a new place.  Right now, my friend who owned the store is letting me stay at his place.  And after you get out of here, I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind letting you stay with us until we find you a home. 

Billy smiled.

“I’d like that.”


	18. Home

Home

“Billy?” Dudley asked as he quietly peeked into the sterile hospital room.  He was glad to see the wounded boy sitting up in bed, engrossed in a comic strip from the newspaper.  Looking up from his reading material, a wide grin stretched across Billy’s features. 

“Hey Dudley!” he greeted joyfully, his optimism cutting through the melancholy ambience.  He put down the paper, sat up straight, and flashed a jovial grin.  Dudley took a seat at his bedside, joining in the boy’s infectious smile as he took the bag slung over his shoulder and placed it on the floor. 

“Hey squirt, feeling any better?  Are they treating you well here?  Sorry I’m late.  My ride was delayed.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a little better,” Billy replied as tried to find a comfortable position.  “My leg still hurts a bit.  Everyone is really nice to me here, though.  The food is pretty good, too.”

“You like the food _here_?” Dudley asked incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Billy answered.  “Why?”

“When you’re better, I’ll show you some of the best places to eat in Fawcett.”  Dudley responded with a chuckle.  There’s a diner just down the road that makes the best pancakes in the city.”

“Really?,” Billy stated matter-of-factly.  “The best in the _city_?”

“Oh yeah, they’re the best hands down.” a voice from the doorway answered.  The duo looked up to find a nurse standing in the doorway, holding a platter.  The kind woman gave Dudley a polite nod as she walked over and gently set the tray in Billy’s lap.  “I just came to drop off his lunch.  There’s a turkey sandwich, chips, and a juice box, as well as a few light painkillers to help with his leg.  Is there anything else you need, Billy?”

“No, I’m fine.  Thank you!” the boy answered before picking up his sandwich and taking an eager bite.

“By the way, sir?” the nurse asked, making eye contact with Dudley.

“Yes?” the aging man replied.

“I hate to be rude, but I can’t let you stay.  You see, with everything that’s happened lately, we’re completely full with patients and worried visitors.  With all of the people walking around, some of the hallways have been getting overcrowded, making it difficult to get to the actual patients.  Since we’re running out of space, we’ve been instructed us to tell any non-family members that visitation is prohibited until further notice.  If you’re not family, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Dudley looked at the nurse for a few seconds, who gave him an apologetic smile.  He then turned to Billy and mouthed a silent “sorry” before reaching for his bag. 

“Wait!” Billy cried out, looking completely devastated.  “He _is_ family!  Let him stay!”

Taken off guard, Dudley stared at Billy.  The boy shot him a pleading look, his light blue eyes glistening with unspoken fear.  The surprised gentleman turned to the nurse once more.

“Um…yeah,” he added.  “Yes, I am.”

“Really?” the nurse queried.

“Uh-huh,” Billy replied.  “He’s my Uncle Dudley.  Please don’t make him leave!  I’m lonely…and scared.”  The wounded boy put on his most pleading face and stared up at the nurse hopefully.  Her resolve swiftly shattered, and a sympathetic grin overtook her skeptical expression.

“Alright, then, he can stay,” the nurse finally relented.  “But before you leave, please check with the front desk, sir.  There are some things we need to discuss regarding Billy’s care.”

“Okay,” Dudley responded.  “Thank you.”  At that, the nurse left, leaving the duo alone.  Dudley shot Billy a comical look.  Billy could only smile nervously.

“Sorry.  I just really wanted you to be able to stay.  I don’t want to be alone here.”

“Don’t worry, Billy,” Dudley responded.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  He reached into his bag and produced a deck of cards.  “So, ever learn how to play gin rummy?”

_Three weeks later…_

“I’m glad everything is going back to normal,” Dudley commented as he strode down the sidewalk, admiring the endless buzz of reconstruction around him.  The pervasive whirr of cranes and the chatter of workers hung in the frigid air as they removed rubble and reconstructed buildings destroyed during the inclement weather.

A small grunt from behind him drew Dudley’s attention away from the half-built skyline.  He turned to find Billy struggling to maintain his balance with crutches.  The injured boy looked down at his boot-clad leg and frowned comically. 

“I hate this thing,” he stated pointedly.  “I’ve been wearing it for almost a month and I still can’t seem to get around!”

The boy tried to take another step, failed, and stumbled forward into Dudley, who caught him clumsily.  The older man gave a grin as he helped the boy stand.  Seeing his companion’s amused expression, Billy found himself smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah.  No one does kiddo.  But you’re going to have to wear it until your leg heals.”

Billy sighed dramatically and leaned on Dudley’s side.  He took the opportunity to examine the brickwork above him.  A construction worker waved to him from atop a half-finished wall, prompting him to return the gesture. 

“If walking is too difficult, I can always call a cab,” Dudley suggested, but Billy shook his head.

“Nah, it’s nice to be outside.  Besides, you said it’s not too far from here.  I can make it.”

The two passed by a row of apartments in the process of being reconstructed.  Atop the building, several coat-clad workers and members of the community weathered the light snowfall as they worked to rehabilitate the community.

“How did they rebuild everything so fast?” Billy inquired as he watched them work.  Unaware of his surroundings, the boy tripped over a small snow drift and fell face-first into soft alabaster slush.  Startled by his charge’s mishap, Dudley hurried over and helped the boy up.  Chuckling embarrassedly, Billy assured Dudley that he was alright.

“The reason Fawcett is being rebuilt so quickly is because we look out for one another here,” Dudley explained as he brushed snow out of Billy’s hair and lifted the front of the boy’s beanie so it wasn’t covering his eyes.  “Even though we live in a big city, it feels like a small town.  Everyone knows everyone else, and people help one another.  No matter what happens, we stick together.  So when the storm ruined downtown, everyone started helping to rebuild.  With everyone chipping in, repairs are taking no time at all.”

“Cool,” Billy replied, his attention torn between Dudley’s explanation and trying hard not to trip again.

“Even our local hero feels like a part of the community,” Dudley added.  At this, Billy stopped and peered up at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at Captain Marvel, our resident superhero,” Dudley elaborated.  “Other heroes like Superman or Batman, they seem untouchable, unapproachable.  While they save lives and stop supervillains, they don’t seem…friendly.  I wouldn’t invite them over for breakfast at my new place.

At this, Billy let out a bubbly belly laugh.  Grinning triumphantly, Dudley continued. 

“But Captain Marvel is different.  Whenever I watch him helping people here in Fawcett, I always get the feeling that he isn’t just doing it because he’s part of the Justice League.  He helps people because he genuinely cares about them.  He helps because Fawcett is his home, too.  You know, he’s the one that saved me when my apartment came down.  If not for him, I wouldn’t be here.  I just wish I could do something to repay him…”

Billy continued down the snow-lined street, smiling to himself.  Dudley fell in line beside him, making sure the unsteady child didn’t slip on the slippery pavement.  The duo rounded a corner and passed several stores in silence before their conversation renewed. 

“Hey, Dudley?”

“Yes, Billy?”

“I just wanted to thank you…for helping me during the storm.  And letting me stay with you while I got better.  And keeping me company in the hospital.  I know you said that people here are nice to each other.  But people…they aren’t usually very nice to me.  But you helped me.  I…just…thanks.”

The aging man smiled.  “It’s no trouble, Billy.  None at all.  It’s been great getting to know you this past month.  You’re a great kid.”

“Thanks” Billy replied.  “I’m just glad that you found a new place to live.  Once my leg gets better, I hope I can find somewhere to stay too.  I know that some of the shelters inside the city have already been rebuilt.  And I don’t think those teens are going to bother me anymore.  I should be okay.”

Dudley said nothing as the duo stopped in front of a tall, brick building.  He turned to his limping charge. 

“We’re here.  Now, let’s find an elevator.”

A short excursion found the two in front of an olive-painted wooden door with the numbers 340 on it.  Taking out a key, Dudley disengaged the lock and motioned Billy inside.  The injured boy slowly walked into the quiet abode, carefully examining the sparsely furnished space.  The great room was barren save a coffee table and a single analog wall clock.  A small refrigerator sat in the kitchenette.  A few errant pictures and ornaments riddled the walls.  Despite the simplicity of the apartment, Billy couldn’t help but stare. 

“Wow!  This is really nice!  I can’t believe that you found such a cool place.”

“It could use some decorating,” Dudley commented.  “But it’s exactly what I wanted.  Believe me, it wasn’t easy to get this place.”

“Really?” Billy queried.  “Why?”

“Let me show you,” Dudley responded.  With a nod, Billy followed his composed companion out of the great room and up to another door.  Dudley opened it and ushered Billy inside.  The new room was also relatively empty; a small bed sat against one wall, accompanied by a night stand and a small lamp.

“What’s this?” Billy queried, the seemingly mundane room piquing his curiosity. 

Dudley grinned.  “Well, I was hoping this would be your room.”

Billy stared at Dudley, his mouth agape.

“My…room?”

“Yeah,”  Dudley answered.  “Your room.  I explained your situation to the lady who owns the building, and she said she would give me the only unit left with two bedrooms.  She says she has no problem with you staying here, and I think it would be safer than letting you live on the street.  Besides, I enjoy being your uncle.”

Billy continued to stare at his benevolent friend, unable to formulate a response.  Suddenly, a biting fear erupted in his mind, and a sorrowful look crossed his features.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Dudley repeated, startled by the sudden change in the boy’s demeanor.  “Why…”

“I just…can’t.” Billy interjected, fighting back tears.  “It just…I really appreciate this…it means so much…but I can’t stay.”

Dudley frowned.  “Why, kiddo?  What’s wrong?”

“Please…” Billy begged, wiping away the tears lingering in his eyes.  “It just…it isn’t safe.  I can’t stay here.”

“Billy,” Dudley said, firmly taking hold of the boy’s shoulder.  “You can’t keep living out there.  I know you’ve been through some rough times.  It must be hard to trust people after being alone for so long.  But there are people who care about you.  Who don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t understand!” Billy cried as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Then help me understand,” Dudley said as he looked into the crying child’s eyes.  “Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to face it alone.  Let me help you.”

Being careful not to hurt Billy’s broken leg, Dudley knelt down and pulled him into a gentle hug.  Unable to form any words, Billy buried his head in the kind man’s shoulder as sobs wracked his small frame.  Dudley held his young charge close, letting the boy’s emotions flow. 

“It’s okay,” he repeated.  “You’re okay.”

After a while, Billy finally calmed down.  Leaning on Dudley for support, he managed to take a seat on his bed.  The aging gentleman leaned his crutches against the wall before taking a seat beside him.  The emotionally exhausted boy peered up at his guardian and sighed. 

“I have something I need to tell you.”


	19. Light

Light

Billy’s breath hitched in his throat as Dudley stared at him expectantly.  A bead of sweat rolled down the injured boy’s cheek as he debated whether or not to reveal his greatest secret.

_If I tell him, will he still want to let me stay here?  Is it even safe to stay here?  What if Cap’s enemies find out who I am?  They could try to hurt him.  Or worse…_

Lost in thought, the anguishing child barely noticed Dudley approaching him.  Billy’s cascade of worries halted suddenly as a pair of hands gently took hold of his shoulder.  He looked up to find Dudley staring at him, deep concern furrowing his brow. 

“Billy?” the kind man asked.  “What’s wrong?”

Billy gave no answer.  Concerns tore through his mind as he frantically weighed his options.

_Man, I wish I could turn into Cap.  The Wisdom of Solomon would be really helpful right now._

“Billy!” Dudley’s worried voice pierced his thoughts once more.  Snapping back to reality, Billy watched as his adoptive uncle knelt down to his eye level.

“Billy, I know you must be scared after everything you’ve been through.  It might feel like you’re alone, but you’re not.  Please, I can help you.  But you need to trust me.”

Once again, Billy said nothing.

“Look, I want to hear everything, kiddo,” Dudley said.  “But you look like you’re starving.  How about we go get something to eat?”

Billy stared at his concerned guardian.  After a moment, a smile graced his features.

“Yeah.  That sounds good.”

_Elsewhere…_

Dudley watched as Billy inhaled the last of his hamburger.  Their meal had proceeded in tense silence, despite Dudley’s best attempts to goad the boy into talking.  The two had managed to ignite a conversation over milkshakes, but the spark quickly extinguished when Dudley pressed Billy to tell him what was wrong.  Finally, as Dudley finished paying the bill, he turned to his now well-fed charge.

“Billy,” he began gently.  “I know you’re worried.  But you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

The injured boy let out a sigh before picking up his crutches and scooting out of the booth. 

“I need to go,” Billy said suddenly as he started towards the front door.

“Billy, wait!” Dudley began as he stood and followed him.  “You…”

“I need to go do something,” Billy interjected.  “I’m really sorry.”

Before Dudley could respond, Billy dashed out of the diner.  Now thoroughly troubled, Dudley rushed outside to catch him. 

But Billy was already gone.

_Later…_

Batman’s eyes darted between several screens as he entered a string of commands into the Watchtower’s central computer terminal.  The Dark Knight’s scanned columns of data as they spilled across the luminescent screen.  After searching tirelessly for any sign of the escaped villains, he had yet to discern their location.  As he pondered the whereabouts of the vile conglomerate of villains, a flash of a suspicious scene appeared onscreen.  Batman carefully scrutinized the strange newsfeed from Gotham.

_That might be…_

The brilliant vigilante’s train of thought was derailed by the sound of a boom tube activating inside the Watchtower.  Digitally marking his place, the guardian of Gotham turned away from his work just as Captain Marvel burst into the room, a misplaced nervous grin pervading his herculean features. 

“Hey, Batman,” the mystical champion greeted.  “I’m early for monitor duty this time.”

The Dark Knight’s face remained an immutable mask of brooding calculation.  Somewhat unnerved, Captain Marvel cleared his throat and tugged on the collar of his cape. 

_Batman’s mad at me._

“Look,” he continued.  “I’m sorry.  I know that I should have told the other members of the League who I was.  I just…I was afraid they wouldn’t let me stay.”

“They probably wouldn’t have,” Batman suddenly interjected, his unwavering tone echoing through the chamber.  “Had I known, I wouldn’t have let you stay with us.  But you made the right decision.”

Now it was Captain Marvel’s turn to stand silently.  The crimson champion shot his enigmatic companion a probing glance.

“…Huh?” he finally managed.

“Regardless of your age, Captain, you saved millions of lives during the attack on Fawcett.  You’ve earned your place on the League.”

Billy failed to stifle the pride welling in his chest. 

_I just got a compliment from Batman.  Is that even possible?_

“So, are you going to tell them?” Billy queried.

“No,” Batman replied.  “You have a right to a secret identity, just like everyone else.  Just don’t let your civilian life interfere with your responsibilities to the League.”

“I won’t,” Captain Marvel reassured.  “Now I just need to figure out how to keep my identity a secret while saving the world.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” the caped crusader commented before pressing a button on his comlink.  “Some of Penguin’s goons are causing trouble in Gotham.  I need to go take care of them.”  At that, the stoic superhero started towards the door, intent on taking a boom tube back to his city.

“Wait!” Captain Marvel yelled abruptly.  The Dark Knight turned and raised an eyebrow. 

“When I was in the hospital, Dudley told me that they had called him and told him I was looking for him.  But  I was passed out.  Was that…”

“Alfred made the call,” Batman interrupted. 

Captain Marvel stepped towards the door.  “Who’s Alfred?”

But the Dark Knight was already gone.

Billy sighed and turned back to the empty room.  With most of the League gone, the League’s base of operations was unusually silent.  Sauntering over to the central computer, Captain Marvel entered a few commands to bring up the security feeds across the station.  As he expected, the massive satellite was devoid of any intruders.  Hopefully, he would have a quiet shift.

“Captain.”

The mystical hero whirled about to find Black Canary in the doorway, a look of disappointment burning in her eyes.  Taken aback by her sudden appearance, he managed a half-smile and a wave.

“You have a lot to explain,” she declared harshly.

_So much for quiet._

_Elsewhere…_

“Man, when is this guy going to get here?” Klarion asked impatiently as he twirled a ball of hellfire between his fingers.  The lord of chaos laid back on the plush couch and ran his fingers through Teekl’s hair, eliciting a purr of appreciation from the magical feline.  “I mean, we’ve been waiting forever.”

“Your incessant chatter certainly isn’t going to expedite our guest’s arrival,” Professor Ivo retorted as he put his feet up on a footstool.  The mad genius took a sip of his wine before placing the glass on an ornate wood table beside him.  “Besides, I’m rather enjoying this change of scenery.”

“I dunno,” the Joker chimed in.  “This place is too…clean.  I think it would look a little better if we blew up that wall over there.  Or maybe hang Batman’s corpse in the entryway.  Ooh, or we could just hang some piñatas filled with explosives!  Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Luthor would not find your choice of décor very enticing,” Wotan answered from across the lavishly furnished living room.  “Though Batman’s corpse would be a welcome sight.  As would the bodies of the other so-called heroes.”

“Why don’t we just go get them?” Klarion questioned, dispelling the ball of flame in his hands.  “We shouldn’t be waiting here for some geezer to show up!”

“I assure you, Klarion, our guest was well worth the wait,” a voice interjected from behind the young wizard.  The impatient assembly of supervillains turned their attention to the doorway and found Lex Luthor there, adjusting his freshly ironed tie.  The diabolical business mogul entered the living room, flanked by a gruff man clad in a trench coat. 

“And you are?” the Joker asked.

“Vandal Savage,” the stranger greeted.  “And I come with a proposition.”

“Oh?” Ivo asked. 

“Your recent attacks throughout the continent, though unsuccessful, demonstrated that the heroes are vulnerable.  With our combined efforts, we can strike a deadly blow against the Justice League and their allies.  We can tear away the remnants this stagnant era and bring about an unprecedented period of change.  We will rule as gods in our new world order.”

“Mr. Savage and I have been considering the creation of a coalition to combat the Justice League for some time,” Luthor explained.  “With the heroes shaken, and their public image wavering, now is our time to act.”

“For too long we have worked in the shadows,” Savage added, a devious smile crossing his face.  “It is time to step into the light.”

_Elsewhere…_

2:54 A.M.

Dudley gave his wall clock a quick glance before turning his attention back to the book in his hands.  After Billy had dashed out of the diner, Dudley had spent the better part of an hour searching for him.  The aging man's efforts had been fruitless, leaving him to worry as to the injured boy's fate.  Resigned to the crushing truth that he couldn't help the boy, Dudley had trudged back to his apartment and lost himself in a book.  Nevertheless, his thoughts kept drifting back to his lost charge.

_I hope Billy’s alright.  It’s getting really late and I still haven’t heard from him.  How could I let him run off like that…?_

A loud _thump_ ripped Dudley from his ponderings.

_Billy?_

Quickly marking his place in his book, the handyman stood and padded towards Billy’s room.  Being as quiet as possible, the curious guardian opened the door just a crack.

“Billy?” he whispered.  When he received no response, Dudley slowly opened the creaking door.  Much to his relief, he found his young charge sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly.

_How did he get in?  The door’s unlocked.  I must not have noticed him._

A small smile crept across Dudley’s face as he watched the exhausted hero.  With as much stealth as he could muster, Dudley padded over to the boy’s bedside, tucked him in, and retreated back to the doorway.

“Sleep well, Billy,” he said softly before turning out the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note  
> After overwhelming feedback from my wonderful readers, I have decided to create a sequel to Come in from the Cold. I would like to thank everyone who left a review or sent me a personal message. As an author, nothing makes me happier then hearing from you. Thank you so much for all of the kinds words. I should have the story up on a Saturday in the next two weeks. Follow me if you want an alert when I post it. Once again, thank you for everything that has been said. It means the world to me.  
> -Lotus


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